Sailing Into Uncharted Waters
by JasTee
Summary: Detective John Kelly, wife Laura (Lori), and those closest to them in the world of NYPD Precinct 15 discover that life is often like sailing into uncharted waters - you never know what will happen next. We've classified this story as 'drama and hurt/comfort,' but there will also be elements of romance, humor and whatever else we come up with. Enjoy!
1. Chapter 1

**_(Authors' Note: This story takes place approximately one year prior to the events shown in the first season episode of NYPD Blue.)_**

SAILING INTO UNCHARTED WATERS

Chapter One

John Kelly was adjusting his tie when two slender arms encircled his waist and a warm body snuggled up against his back. Grinning, he turned in his wife's embrace, enfolding her in his arms.

"Can't get enough of me, huh?" His eyes sparkled and he raised his brows teasingly.

Laura smiled. "Don't let it go to your head," she said, kissing him.

Too soon for his liking, she backed out of his arms. "John, I have an appointment today..."

"Yeah?"

She could see he wasn't really paying attention. His mind had moved on to other things. She watched him position his gun holster, securing it above his waist. She turned away, disquieted by the sight. It wasn't easy being a cop's wife.

"You want to grab a bite after work?" he asked.

She shook her head inwardly. _Men! _

"Maybe; we'll see."

He nodded, clipping his badge to the pocket of his suit jacket, where it rested against the right side of his chest. "Okay, you ready?"

She hesitated. "I just thought of something I need to take care of – go on ahead; I'll talk to you later."

Tenderly, John caressed her cheek. "Be careful," he said, looking into her eyes before kissing her goodbye.

After he left, Laura stood quietly for several minutes, staring into space.

She hadn't said anything to John – not yet.

_She needed to be sure._

She picked up her briefcase and started toward the door, but her thoughts drove her back to the bedroom. Tossing the case on the bed, she studied with a **critical **eye her reflection in the room's mirror. She could detect no difference in her appearance.

But something _had _changed. Something that would forever alter her life and John's.

* * *

><p>There was a spring in John's step as he entered the precinct building. He had a job he loved and a woman he was crazy about! Life was good.<p>

_Again. Finally._

He and Lori had gone through a rough patch the past twelve months. There were times when he wondered if they were going to survive it. She started spending more hours at the office, and _he _hadn't been in any hurry to get home, either.

_It was the baby, of course. The baby that failed to materialize._

During the five years they'd been married, four of them had been devoted to their unsuccessful attempts to conceive. It was something they both wanted, but failed to happen. With each month's failure, he felt Lori slipping further away from him.

Lori was an achiever, smart and competitive. She was so sure of herself, so confident that she could do anything. It was one of the things he liked about her, that keen self-assurance. There was something sexy about a woman who wasn't a fragile flower. He'd seen too many _flowers_ in his line of work, and things never turned out well for them. But Lori was strong, and he never worried about her ability to make good decisions.

Their failure to conceive, however, seemed a personal affront to her, as if she'd discovered something she couldn't do, no matter how much effort she put into it.

A year ago, walking through the park, they'd glimpsed a woman with four boisterous kids trailing after her, and he'd felt Lori's body stiffen. Tears had appeared in her eyes when she said, "Look at that woman, John... it seems so easy. She has a bunch of kids... why not us?"

He didn't know what to say and answered in the only way he knew: physically. He'd pulled her close, and held her tight, tucking her head beneath his chin, trying to reassure both of them that things were going to work out.

_They had to._

Yet, as months passed, Lori increasingly withdrew from him. One area they never had any problems with was sex, but he began to sense a reticence on her part. Not that she ever denied him. Never... but there was a subtle turning away. He started to feel his overtures were **invasive**, something dutifully endured.

But now things were different.

Something had happened during the past several weeks, and he wasn't sure what it was, but the old Lori had returned. Eager again, initiating sex, as hungry for him as he was for her. And something else... a lingering tenderness once the lovemaking was over. She'd cling to him, whispering endearments, her breath warm and tickling against his throat.

He wasn't sure why things had changed, but they had.

_And he liked it – a lot._

* * *

><p>Andy swallowed the last bite of the powdered sugar donut as John took a seat at his desk.<p>

"Nice you could make the party, John," he said, passing a napkin across his lips, dislodging the fine white particles from his mustache.

"I'm fifteen minutes late," his partner replied. "That happens... oh... what? _Never_?"

"A little morning delight?"

"Jealous?"

"Nah... I can get a woman anytime I want one." Andy took a drink from his coffee mug, studying the man sitting across from him. _Things must be better at home,_ he thought. _He's happy_.

He knew the kid had been going through a rocky period with his wife.

Andy had never taken to Lori. She always seemed too damned perfect, like butter wouldn't melt in her mouth. What the kid saw in her, he could never figure out. They say 'still waters run deep,' so maybe Lori was a dynamo in bed. Whatever... he just hoped it lasted.

Andy loved John – saw him as a son, almost. Had, ever since the kid first became his partner. Energetic, a hard worker, bright, he had what it took to be a good cop. Andy trusted his instincts, and his instincts had told him John was the real deal.

He hadn't been wrong. The youngest cop ever to make detective, John was going places. Or could be. But Andy sensed something else about John: his heart was in the _work_. He would never bounce upstairs into administration.

He was like Andy. An old-fashioned gumshoe – and Andy loved him for it.

The abrupt ringing of the phone on Andy's desk interrupted his thoughts. "Sipowicz, 15th Precinct..."

He listened, his shrewd eyes alert. "We're on our way," he said, terminating the call.

John looked at him. "Well?"

"Domestic dispute. Get _this_: it's a _wife _beating the crap out of her husband. Now there's a switch."

* * *

><p>Laura came out of the lady's room, a damp tissue pressed against her mouth.<p>

Her secretary, Tina, looked up from the brief she was typing. "Hey! You okay? You're pale as a ghost!"

Laura nodded, and then swayed.

"Here, Lori, sit down," said Tina, removing a stack of files from a nearby chair.

Laura sank down onto the wooden chair gratefully. "Something I ate must not have agreed with me..." She wiped her forehead with the cool tissue, and rested the back of her head against the wall. "I'll be okay in a minute. What time is it?"

"It's almost eleven... you look clammy. Maybe you should go home?"

"No, really... I'm feeling better already. Besides, I have an appointment at noon."

"I can reschedule for you..."

"No. I need to keep this one."

"Okay," said Tina, her voice doubtful. "Just promise you're not going to pass out in the street. I'll never hear the end of it from your husband if you do."

Laura smiled. "I promise I am not going to pass out here _or _in the street, okay? And you don't need to mention to John that I wasn't feeling well, _Mama_ Tina, got it?"

Laura liked Tina, an older woman who took a maternal interest in both she and John. Laura's own mother had never been a warm woman, and it had taken her some time to get used to Tina's affectionate fussing. It surprised her how much she enjoyed Tina's concern. It answered a need inside her that Laura hadn't been aware existed.

Tina watched her. "Tell you what: I'll cut you a deal. You go home after that appointment and rest - and I won't say anything to John the next time he picks you up."

"That's blackmail!"

Tina grinned. "It is, isn't it? Well, take it or leave it!"

Sighing, Laura gave in. "Guess I'll have to take it."

* * *

><p>The <strong>elevator <strong>was slow, and John was getting antsy. "Look, you wait; I'm gonna take the **stairs**."

"Settle down, John, it's coming. What's with you?" Andy asked.

_What was with him is that he had a bad feeling about this case_.

It had started as soon as they entered the apartment building. The place was a dump, with light fixtures flickering, and paint cracked and peeling from the walls.

"Look, here's the car," said Andy, as elevator doors slowly opened. They rode up six flights in silence, and then walked out into the darkened hallway. "We're looking for 606."

"Over there," said John, pointing toward the dented, metal door.

They heard nothing coming from inside the apartment, and John's heart began to beat rapidly. "You ready?"

Andy nodded.

John rapped sharply on the door. "NYPD. Open up. Now!"

They heard sounds of faint movement from within, and a man, his face bruised and bloody, cracked open the door. "Yeah?"

"Sir, we received a call concerning a domestic disturbance in this apartment. Can we come in?" asked John.

The man looked at John, his fright apparent. He kept rolling his eyes, trying to indicate someone was standing behind him. "Everything's fine," he said.

John and Andy exchanged glances. Everything was _not _fine.

"Sir, we need to come inside. Please move away from the door."

The man's terror was unmistakable, and he jerked forward suddenly, as if someone had pushed him from behind. "NO! Everything's fine!"

Andy took out his gun. "I think you're a liar."

* * *

><p>Laura decided to walk to her appointment. She had plenty of time, and it was an excuse to enjoy the sunshine. Pausing in front of a small toy store, she smiled at the window display of toys from days gone by – drums, wooden ABC blocks, and an old <strong>teddy bear<strong>.

A memory surfaced. _The bear in the __**attic**__... John's mother's house. _

Before John's mother began to fail, Laura had loved going to Mary Kelly's house on Friday nights for dinner. She was a wonderful cook and a sweet lady. Recognizing that John intended to marry Laura, she had welcomed her into the family, and had been as loving toward her as she was to John.

When she and John first decided to try for a baby, Laura happily shared the news with her mother-in-law. Later, when she realized conception wasn't going to be as easy as she thought, she wished she hadn't said anything, especially when Mary's eyes began to look at her expectantly.

Mary had been ecstatic at the thought of a baby, and she asked Laura to accompany her up to the attic the night Laura shared the news. While John watched the Mets game on the TV in his mother's living room, loudly cheering his team's seventh homerun against the still-scoreless Yankees, Mary showed Laura the cradle John's father had made for his son. Jack Kelly, once a cop like John, had often used his love of woodworking to escape the cares of police work.

Inside the cradle wrapped in tissue paper was a large, soft teddy bear.

"Johnny used to love this bear when he was a baby... I couldn't part with it," said John's mother, her voice tender, remembering the baby she once held in her arms.

"Maybe you'll use the cradle for your baby when he comes along, Lori."

Laura remembered hugging her mother-in-law. "I would love to use the cradle!" she'd said, her heart warmed by the thought. "And the teddy bear... maybe we could put it on a shelf in the baby's room."

That was several years ago, before John's mother became ill. Now Laura wondered if Mary would even comprehend she had a grandchild when the time came.

Pushing the unhappy thought aside, Laura glanced at her watch and then at her reflection in the window. She saw a woman biting her lower lip, struggling not to get her hopes up.

_Here we go_, she thought. _Here we go..._

To be continued.

* * *

><p><em>Authors' Note: This is a continuing story from the writing team of WriterJasmine and Teeheehee1234. It's meant to be a fun attempt at writing a story together based on words that readers provide to us on a weekly basis. For more information about this, please read our profile and please feel free to participate. The 'bolded' words throughout the story are words that some of our reader friends sent our way this week. The words utilized are: <em>_**critical; invasive; elevator; stairs; teddy bear**__; and __**attic**__._


	2. Chapter 2

"I think you're a liar."

With a nod to his partner, Andy pushed the terrified man away from the door, letting himself in, his small revolver held out in front of him. So disturbed by what appeared before him, Andy stopped suddenly, causing John to **walk** straight into him.

"Holy shit."

Had Andy not been of the same sentiment, he might have raised an eyebrow at John's choice of words, the kid had never been much of a one to curse at the best of times.

The two men exchanged an incredulous look as their battered victim stood **frozen** in front of them, completely naked and covered in what looked like **chocolate syrup**. Stood behind the man was a middle-aged woman, a semi-automatic pistol aimed at the back of his head.

"Ma'am, please put down the weapon."

"Back off!"

The woman waved the gun at John, warning him not to take a step further toward her.

"Okay," he conceded, sharing a look of** disappointment** with Andy. "Can you at least tell me your name?"

Still having a bad feeling about the situation, John tried to build up some kind of rapport with their assailant in the hopes that he and Andy would be able to talk her down before anyone got hurt.

The woman sneered at the two detectives. "It doesn't matter what my name is, this weasel has to pay for what he did!"

"How about you tell us what it is that he's done," Andy said, taking the lead from his young partner. Their **friendship** deep enough for Andy to know that the kid was skittish at the moment. There was something about the way John had been acting ever since they'd taken the call at the precinct. Maye it was best that he steered the situation from here….

* * *

><p>"Mrs Kelly," the doctor began, looking at her with concern. "Are you ok, can I get you a glass of water?"<p>

Laura's stomach churned at the thought. The last glass of water she'd drunk had stayed in her system less than an hour before she'd brought it back up again. Was it the nerves making her feel so nauseous or something else entirely?

_It's probably just a false alarm. Like all the other times…_

No, she had to think positively. This time would be the _right_ time. The pain and sorrow that she and John had been through over the last few years would fade away with the news that she was pregnant. _Finally._

"I'm ok, doctor. I just need to know the results of the test." Laura looked at the doctor with pleading eyes. She'd never been one to resort to begging, but the not knowing was almost as bad as hearing the news that their recent attempts to conceive had yet again been unsuccessful.

The doctor gave her a **sweet smile**, one that Laura hoped meant that the news was positive.

"It's early days yet, but all of the test results show that you're in the first stages of pregnancy."

It took a few moments for the words to sink in as Laura sat staring into nothingness. She cleared her throat, attempting to regain her composure.

"I'm sorry, could you repeat that?"

"The tests show that you're approximately three weeks pregnant. Congratulations, Mrs Kelly."

Laura nodded her head, though whatever the doctor said had barely registered, her mind focusing on one thing.

_I'm pregnant. I'm actually pregnant._

After so many years of disappointment and false hope, it seemed too much to believe that their dreams would finally be coming true.

"Are you sure there hasn't been a mistake?"

Laura looked at the doctor intently, trying to intimidate the woman into admitting that she'd made an error. This was too important to both her and John for the doctor to have mixed her tests results up with another patient. After so much heartache, they _had_ to be sure.

"The results of these tests don't lie, Mrs Kelly. Your hormone levels show that you're currently with child."

It still didn't seem real. Hundreds of questions were whizzing around her mind. Laura cursed herself for not being more prepared for the news. But after so many near misses, it seemed like tempting fate to even think that this time would be the one occasion that all of their suffering would finally be rewarded with her and John having a child of their own.

* * *

><p>Time seemed to crawl, the crazed woman continuing to stare at the two police officers with barely-concealed fury.<p>

"Look, ma'am," Andy prompted, nodding his head toward the shivering naked man before him, "Your man is freezing his nuts off. Do you want him to die of **exposure**?"

The chubby detective heard his partner groan at his lack of tact, but Andy was getting too old to try to talk down crazed housewives from killing their cheating husbands. Tea and sympathy wasn't going to cut it in this situation, the quicker they defused it, the quicker he and John could get back to the precinct.

It had been another particularly heavy night of drinking and he'd woken up with a killer headache this morning. His wife had left him and his only son hated him; why bother making the effort to stay sober?

Puking in a **dumpster** on the way to the precinct this morning should have been a wake-up call, but a drunk man truly has no shame – especially when they're too drunk to even realise how much of an embarrassment they've become to the people around them.

Thank God that John had finally got things back on track with that wife of his – it would stop the soppy young fool looking at him with pitying eyes every time he'd come into work after a heavy night looking more than a little worse for wear.

No, John was too busy getting his leg over to notice that his partner was sneaking in the odd nip of whiskey during the shift - it was exactly the way Andy intended to keep it. Being an alcoholic was a lonely road and he knew it was better for those around him that he be left to his own devices than have them suffer the pain of watching his demise unfold before them.

Even though it was barely an hour into their shift, the need for a drink began to consume his thoughts. All Andy could think about was getting out of this dump, slipping away for an hour or so and feeding his craving.

"Look lady, just put the gun and we'll all talk nicely about this, ok? I'm sure Mr Popsicle here would like a nice hot shower while we talk to you about whatever it is that's pissed you off this morning."

Andy heard the whispered cursing of his partner but ignored him completely.

"He missed your birthday…..your anniversary? Surely he ain't worth wasting a bullet over is he?"

Andy's unorthodox approach to dealing with an armed suspect seemed to have an instant reaction as the woman lowered the gun slightly. The naked man wept silently as clear rivulets of tears made their marks in the chocolate syrup covering his chest.

"Put the gun down, stick the kettle on and we'll have a nice chat about what a shitty husband he is," Andy suggested, seeing an opening and deciding to press home the advantage.

It proved to be a costly mistake.

The woman's face changed in an instant. Turning the gun from the naked man and straight in the direction of the two police officers, she screamed, "You men are all the same. You arrogant bastards!"

Andy had barely had time to react before he felt the force of someone pushing him from behind.

* * *

><p><em>Authors' Note: This is a continuing story from the writing team of WriterJasmine and Teeheehee1234. It's meant to be a fun attempt at writing a story together based on words that readers provide to us on a weekly basis. For more information about this, please read our profile and please feel free to participate. The 'bolded' words throughout the story are words that some of our reader friends sent our way this week. The words utilized are: <strong>walk<strong>_**_; dumpster; exposure; disappointment; frozen_**_; **sweet smile; friendship; chocolate syrup**__._


	3. Chapter 3

SAILING INTO UNCHARTED WATERS

Chapter Three

"You men are all the same. You arrogant bastards!"

In her fury, the woman pointed the gun in the direction of the officers. John realized instantly that Andy had misread her intentions. Acting on instinct, he pushed him to the ground just as the woman fired off a shot. John felt a flash of heat near his bicep, and then nothing.

The woman looked at the gun, then at John, her face confused. Moving quickly, he knocked the gun out of her hand. She then started to run, but he tackled her to the ground.

_Christ_, he thought, _she's a big one_!

And she was – wide and strong, and easily John's equal as they rolled once, then twice, around the living room floor.

"Andy," yelled John, "a little help would be appreciated!"

Andy was immediately at his side. Together they managed to subdue the woman, who now lay face down, panting into the rough fibers of the carpet. John cuffed her hands behind her back and took a deep breath.

Andy grinned. "You okay, kid? You looked on the losing end of the battle for a few minutes…"

John said nothing, trying to catch his breath. His face was slightly pale, and there was a sheen of perspiration on his brow.

This time Andy didn't grin. "John?"

"I'm fine," he grunted.

"Let me up, goddam you!" complained the woman. "You got no right to do this! LET ME UP, DAMN IT!"

John threw Andy a look. _Can you believe this crap?_

"Okay, sister," said Andy, "we coulda done this nice and easy but now you're going to have to take a little ride uptown. Now calm down… we're gonna help you stand up."

Together the cops dragged the woman to her feet. She looked over at her husband, cowering in the corner of the room. Scowling, she spat at him. "Worthless piece of shit!" she muttered.

Andy shook his head, glancing at John. "Nice family, huh?" His eyes drifted toward the husband. "Christ, man, cover up!"

As if coming out of a trance, the man reached for a bath towel that must have earlier fallen to the floor and he wrapped it around his waist.

"What's your name?" Andy asked him.

"Lloyd Brooks." He pointed at the glaring woman. "That's Dorothy… my wife."

"Not for long, you son of a bitch!" she shot back. "If I had my way, I'd be your _widow_ by now!"

"You want to tell us what happened?" asked John, watching as Brooks tried to finger comb his hair. It was a vain attempt at **restoring **his dignity considering that the man's face and chest was still smeared with chocolate.

"What's to tell? Crazy bitch! Absolutely freaking nuts!"

"Yeah, I'm crazy all right," yelled Dorothy, "crazy for marrying a cheating S.O.B. like you!" Her face red and angry, she glowered at Andy. "None of this would have happened if Lloyd had kept that goddam **snake** of his inside his pants instead of pulling it out for every slut in the building! No-good, cheating bum. I wish I'd killed him! You hear that, Lloyd? I wish I'd fired that bullet right into your nuts!"

_Christ_, thought John, shaking his head.

"You wanna know what I came home to this morning? What I came home to after working all goddam night cleaning toilets at the hospital while his lazy ass was home? Why don't you tell 'em, Lloyd!"

"Why don't you shut the hell up!" Lloyd shoved past Andy, and stood in front of his wife. "You're nuts. They're gonna put you away for a long, long time. Next time you get out will be when they're putting you six feet under!"

"Hey, pal, you want to back off? You're pretty brave now that your old lady is wearing handcuffs. Now shut up and let her talk." Andy pushed the man back from his wife.

"Mrs. Brooks, tell us what you saw," said John, suddenly weary. His arm was beginning to ache, and he suppressed the urge to rub it.

"I work nights down at St. Elizabeth's. I'm a **janitor**. It's damned hard work. People make a mess – always do when they ain't the ones cleaning it up. Anyways, I'm tired, right? So, after the shift's over, I come home, and I start getting breakfast ready for this bum. But guess what? He ain't up yet; he's still in bed. Sleeping. That's what I thought, anyways… until I heard these noises coming from the bedroom."

_Great_, thought John, suddenly knowing where this was heading.

"What kinda noises?" asked Andy.

"Thumping noises, like something's hitting the wall. So I go take a look and guess what I see? Romeo over there, humping that Phyllis Hanks from down the hall. The both of 'em covered in chocolate, like they're some kinda goddam** ice cream **cone!"

_Uh oh,_ thought John, a look of **trepidation** on his face. "Mrs. Brooks… _where's_ Phyllis?"

"Agh," came back the disgusted reply, "I chased her naked ass down the hallway."

John heaved a sigh of relief. He looked at Andy. "It was probably Phyllis who placed the distress call."

Andy nodded. "Yeah." He tugged at the woman's arm. "Okay, Mrs. Brooks, time to go for a ride now."

"Hey, what about him?" She jerked her head toward her husband. "If he wasn't so goddam desirable, none of this woulda happened.

Andy pushed her toward the door. "Yeah, yeah… he's a regular Adonis."

"Hey," yelled the skinny man, "don't discount charisma!"

"_You_," replied John, "_shut up_. We've had enough of you."

He grimaced suddenly and grabbed his upper arm, unable to repress the urge this time.

Andy noticed. "John?"

"My arm's burning like crazy…" He removed his jacket. Blood had soaked the sleeve of his white, pinstriped shirt. "Ah, shit…"

He looked at Andy. "I can move the arm so it can't be too bad… probably a flesh wound."

Andy frowned. "You better get that looked at. Go on; I'll take care of this. You want me to call Lori?"

"Hell, no! Let's see how bad it is, first. Christ, she's gonna go off once she hears about this."

* * *

><p>When Laura walked out of Dr. Sanchez's office, it seemed the colors of the outside world were much brighter, the tones just a little sharper.<p>

_I'm happy,_ she thought. Happy! All the years of disappointment, of negative pregnancy **tests**, and worries about conception… _poof!_ Gone. A burden she no longer had to carry.

She was going to have a baby!

No, _she and John _were going to have a baby. Finally!

_How am I going to tell him?_ she wondered, her heart beating just a little faster in anticipation. For a moment, she considered showing up at the station, taking him into a vacant office and sharing the happy news. She smiled, imagining his expression upon hearing it.

Then she thought of Andy, and the idea of showing up at the precinct lost some of its appeal. John was going to be thrilled when he learned of the baby. It would be just like him to run into the squad room to announce it to everyone. She could just see Andy looking at her, and then making some crude comment.

_So, Lori… got a bun in the oven, huh?_

No, this was too important a moment to allow that little rooster to ruin it.

She knew Andy didn't like her. That was fine with Laura. She considered him a **misanthropic **boor, and she often struggled to be civil toward John's partner.

Andy Sipowicz had the sensitivity of a rock, and she didn't want his crude behavior to ruin what should be a happy and memorable moment between her and her husband.

For some inexplicable reason – well, inexplicable to _her_, anyway – Johnny loved the man. He put up with his antics, his vulgar humor and his biting sarcasm. Too many times to count, he'd reminded her that she needed to look beneath Andy's rough surface; that a good man was hiding behind the prickly facade.

John would probably insist that Andy be the baby's godfather. _Oh Lord_, she thought, _and I'll have to give in. I always do when it comes to Andy._

She knew something was going on with Sipowicz. For the past few months, he'd seemed angrier at the world, more crude than usual. In an unguarded moment, John had shared his disquiet about the changes in his partner's behavior. He was concerned Andy was drinking too much, and he worried it might impact his ability to do the job.

Laura worried about that, too, especially since Andy was John's partner. If there was one thing she'd learned from being a cop's wife, it was how much partners depended on one another when they were out on the street. Their jobs were dangerous; they had to be able to rely on each other in moments of crisis.

_If Andy was drinking, was he a good partner for John? Could John rely on him? _

It wasn't something she could discuss openly with her husband. He was too loyal to Andy, viewing him as a father figure. As if a father of John's would have been anything like Andy!

Still… John wouldn't listen to any criticism of him.

But now – now that he was going to be a father, maybe she could bring it up. He had responsibilities now. Not just to Laura, but to their child.

Preoccupied by her thoughts, Laura was surprised to find herself once again in front of the same store window she'd been gazing into before her appointment with Dr. Sanchez. This time her eyes looked past the display of wooden A-B-C blocks and the antique teddy bear, and she studied her reflection. The woman looking back at her now seemed much happier.

_Hmm… maybe I won't tell John_, she considered. _Maybe I'll wait until we're in bed and he's sleeping. Then I'll wake him up and tell him I need a __**milkshake**__. And when he starts to complain, I'll just say, 'Aren't all mothers-to-be entitled to cravings in the middle of the night?'_

The thought of John's face when he realized what she was saying made her laugh out loud. An old man passing by stared at her, and she quickly got herself under control.

She was just about to walk away from the window when a foolish idea occurred to her.

_Too sentimental? _she wondered.

She didn't care. It was a time for sentiment!

She went inside the store.

* * *

><p>John glanced down at his watch before entering the apartment. <em>Eight p.m. Damn<em>…

He knew his wife wasn't going to be happy. He should have called to say he'd be late.

The visit to the ER took longer than he'd anticipated, and then there was the paperwork back at the station to catch up on, in spite of Andy's nagging him to take the rest of the day off.

Taking a deep breath, he walked into the apartment.

"Hi babe," he said, spotting his wife sitting on the sofa, surrounded by papers. He leaned down and kissed the top of her head. "Sorry I'm late. What are you up to?"

"Catching up on casework. I have to file a 'motion to dismiss' tomorrow; I want to make sure I haven't missed anything. I'm going before Judge Thompson, and he's a stickler for detail." She sat up straight, stretching out her back. "I'm just about done. So, where were you?"

He hesitated.

"Johnny?" she asked, suddenly alert. "What's wrong?"

He slid off his jacket, tossing it on a chair. Laura's eyes grew wide as she saw the bandages on his arm, the missing shirtsleeve. "What…?"

"Look," he said quickly, "there's nothing to be alarmed about, okay? It was a domestic dispute. The wife had a gun and I couldn't get out of the way in time. The bullet's just grazed the skin; it didn't even enter my arm."

Laura stood up and walked over to him, looking closely at the bandages. She raised frightened eyes to his. "_Nothing_ to be concerned about? She fired a _gun_ at you, John! Where was Andy during all of this?"

"Andy was doing what he had to do."

"Really? Does Andy have a gunshot wound, too?"

"Stop it, Lori. It was a freak accident. Everything's fine. Don't make more of it than it is."

She frowned. "I hate this! You might have been killed today. I'm not buying that Andy did what he had to, either. He's a loose cannon."

John didn't like the direction the conversation was going in. It made him uncomfortable.

There was some truth in what Lori said. Andy's judgment had been off today – he'd misread the woman's body language. Worse, John thought he'd smelled liquor on Andy's breath before they went out on the call. But even if Lori had a point, John wasn't going to let her go off on Andy.

"Lori, I'm beat. Let it go. I'm okay. That should be enough for you."

Laura's eyes looked down at the jacket laying on the chair; John's **shield**, still pinned to its pocket, mocked her.

_How had she ever chosen a cop to fall in love with?_

She didn't want to end up like Johnny's mother, widowed with a small child. The **scare** at seeing John's injured arm and his casual disregard for the danger he'd been in angered her. It also bothered her. She had a baby to think about now.

"I'm going to bed," John said, unaware of his wife's turbulent emotions. "I'm exhausted."

"You don't want anything to eat?" she asked, her voice toneless.

"Nah, Andy grabbed me a sandwich from the deli a couple of hours ago. I just want to sleep. I think it's the drugs they gave me for the pain. They make me tired."

Laura watched him head for the bedroom. She didn't know what to say or do. The evening hadn't turned out the way she'd imagined.

The police badge on John's coat caught her eye again. She turned away, biting her lower lip, and switched off the lamp next to the sofa. Unhappily, she followed her husband into the bedroom.

_It might be the middle of July in New York_, she thought, _but tonight was going to be the dead of winter in the Kelly bedroom._

* * *

><p>Several hours later, John awakened with a hard, driving thirst in his mouth. <em>Damned drugs<em>, he thought. He glanced over at his wife, curled up on the opposite side of the bed, sleeping.

Quietly, he got out of bed and wandered into the dark hallway, heading for the kitchen and a glass of water.

He flicked on the kitchen light, squinting against the brightness, waiting for his eyes to adjust.

When they did, it took several moments before his mind comprehended what he was seeing.

Sitting on the table was a teddy bear and several wooden blocks, spelling out one word.

**B A B Y**

_Oh, Lori!_ he thought.

Feelings of excitement, happiness and remorse battled one another for dominance.

The glass of water forgotten, he rushed back to the bedroom.

_To be continued_.

* * *

><p><em>Authors' Note: This is a continuing story from the writing team of WriterJasmine and Teeheehee1234. It's meant to be a fun attempt at writing a story together based on words that readers provide to us on a weekly basis. For more information about this, please read our profile and please feel free to participate. The 'bolded' words throughout the story are words that some of our reader friends sent our way this week. The words utilized are: <strong>restoring; snake; janitor; ice cream; trepidation; tests; misanthropic; milkshake; shield; scare. <strong>_


	4. Chapter 4

It was only a matter of steps from the kitchen to the bedroom, yet it felt as if a hundred different thoughts had flown through his mind.

_Lori was pregnant. They were having a baby. Finally! _

More than the excitement and fear of becoming a father, John felt like a complete ass for the way he'd treated Lori earlier in the evening. She'd had **life-altering **news – news that they'd hoped to hear for years, and what had he done?

He'd brushed off her concern for him as if nothing had happened. A woman had shot him for God's sake!

But why hadn't Lori told him the moment he'd walked through the door, didn't she think he'd want to know that, after years of heartache and disappointment, their dreams of starting a family were finally coming true?

He felt almost **possessive **as he entered the bedroom, watching his wife lying on her side, one hand cradling her stomach and the bump that had yet to show on her body. It was his nature, as it was his father's, to protect the people he loved and John knew that, without a shadow of a doubt, he would guard Lori and their unborn child with his life.

She looked so sweet lying there that he almost didn't want to wake her, yet he knew he had to. Even if it was the middle of the night, there were plans to be made. Nine months would fly by far quicker than either of them could comprehend and so it made sense to make plans immediately.

Reaching out a hand to shake her gently awake, John stopped, hearing a patrol car scream down the street and around the next **block**. It occurred to him then that they'd have to find a new place to live, somewhere that was quieter, somewhere that was more suited to bringing up a child. It was a **bittersweet** thought, they'd started making their life here, hell, he'd grown up in this very neighbourhood. It would be tough to leave, but their unborn child was the only thing that mattered now.

Taking a deep breath, John shock her shoulder gently, smiling at the peaceful look on her face. When his gentle shaking yielded no discernable results, he tried a different tack….

"Mmmmmm."

He couldn't keep the satisfied grin from his face as Lori turned sleepily toward him. God, she was so sexy when she was half-asleep!

His fingers danced over that sensitive area of hers and this time her eyes opened. Lori gave him a half-amused, half-annoyed look as he lay next to her, propped up on one elbow. Grabbing his left wrist, she turned it slightly to glance at his watch.

"It's three in the morning, don't tell me you're horny."

His reaction to her comment was unexpected. He looked at her seriously, saying nothing.

"Johnny, is everything ok?"

He remained silent, continuing to look at her. It was enough to make her sit up in bed in concern.

"Why didn't you tell me?" John's voice was so quiet it was almost a whisper.

Her mind still foggy from sleep, Lori couldn't quite comprehend the question.

"What are you talking about?"

She felt a stab a guilt flash through her chest at the brief look of hurt on her husband's face. This was meant to be a joyful time for them, they were meant to be happy!

"I went into the kitchen…I saw it, Lori."

"I wanted to tell you – "

"Then why didn't you?"

She began feeling genuinely annoyed. It wasn't as if he'd been in the most agreeable of moods when he'd come home this evening.

"I was going to, but you were too tired, remember?"

He could tell by her clipped tone that Lori was pissed with him.

"You should have said something – "

Letting out a frustrated breath, Lori crossed her arms over her chest, looking at him out of the corner of her eye. "What did you want me to do, have a **neon** sign above my head saying 'I'm pregnant'?"

John couldn't help it, the imagery that Lori's words had created was enough to make him chuckle.

"Don't laugh at me," she huffed, a smirk pulling at her own lips.

John placed a hand under the sheet, resting it on her still-flat stomach. "Has anyone told you how sexy you are when you're angry?"

"Has anyone told you how irritating _you_ are?" Her words were meant to be harsh, but John's wandering fingers and mouth were distracting her from the matter at hand: being mad at him.

There was no point in trying to fight it as he carefully leant over her, his lips searching for hers yet Lori had the feeling that he was holding back on giving into their shared desire for one another. Taking the initiative, she pulled him forcefully on top of her.

"I'm only a couple of weeks gone, you're not going to hurt me."

"But what if – "

"Just shut up and kiss me."

It was all the encouragement John needed as he kissed her passionately, his hands roaming up and down her naked body, both of them giving in to the passion and joy that things were finally coming right.

* * *

><p>The liquor burned Andy's throat as he downed the contents of the glass in one, signalling for the bartender to pour him another – his fifth in the last hour.<p>

"Don't you think you've had enough?" the bartender asked, his hand hovering over the bottle of scotch that Andy had almost single-handedly emptied.

Andy scowled at the young man, yet his unfocused gaze took some of the intended sting out of it. "I've had enough when I say I've had enough…" his eyes seemed to roam from left to right until another thought popped into his addled mind, "…..and I haven't had enough. Now pour."

The bartender shrugged his shoulders, shaking his head as he poured his customer another drink. Tuesdays always had been their slowest day, there were only a handful of other patrons in the room and several of those had their attention firmly placed on the **exotic dancer** at the far end, writhing up and down on a chair as the men leered and threw dollar bills at her.

Andy paid the scantily-clad woman and the other patrons no attention, turning the glass of scotch round and round as he ruminated on the day's events.

He'd woken up this morning feeling like a dog had slept in his mouth, his pants half off and his shoes still on. It had to have been a heavy night, yet Andy could remember little past leaving his favourite bar at closing time.

Maybe that was the reason why he found himself in such a dive now. The bartenders at his local drinking hole had begun showing concern over the volume of scotch he was getting through each night. He wasn't even sure why they cared, surely a guy wanting to drink them dry was a good thing, wasn't it?

He didn't need the disappointed looks and lectures that they were giving him – it reminded him too much of his ex-wife and the way that she would vacillate between shouting at him and trying to shame him into giving up drinking.

The Strutting Peacock seemed as good a place as any to drink himself into oblivion and the less people there were, the better. He hated crowded bars. Being an alcoholic was a one-man sport and that was just fine with him.

It suddenly hit him how close he'd been to losing John today; it was a thought that sobered him instantly.

How could he have got it so wrong this morning?

Tired, irritable and already craving a drink, he'd all but goaded Dorothy Brooks into firing that gun. If it hadn't been for John's quick thinking, he knew that the situation could have ended up being so much worse.

But John had ended up getting shot because of him. It was only fortune or fate that John had walked away with nothing more than a flesh wound. The image of John's blood-soaked shirtsleeve caused a shiver to run down Andy's spine and was enough to make him reach for the glass tumbler in front of him and tip its contents forcefully into his mouth.

Swallowing the biter liquid with a wince, Andy knew that he'd never forgive himself if anything happened to his partner. Sure, John could be irritating at times but he loved the man like a son and John had always been good to him – covering for him when he turned up late, finishing his paperwork so that he could leave early. Not only that, the kid was a damn fine cop - his instincts on the job were second to none.

Everyone knew the story of John's father and how he'd been killed in the line of duty; it stuck painfully in Andy's throat to think that he was the reason that history had almost repeated itself. He was becoming a liability to his partner, he couldn't see much **longevity** in their working relationship if things carried on the way they were.

Something had to give. John would never ask for another partner – the man was far too loyal for that. Maybe the best thing he could do for John was to take the choice away from him and ask for a transfer himself. Sure, John wouldn't understand why but at least the kid would be safe from having a fuck-up of a partner like he did at the moment.

He'd miss working with John. Maybe one more drink for old time's sake would be the ideal way to salute the good times they'd shared as partners. Signalling the bartender for another, Andy silently toasted to his partner's continued good health.

* * *

><p><em>Putting the finishing touches on dinner, Lori looked at the clock on the kitchen wall, wondering where John had got to. He should have been home more than an hour ago and it irritated her that his being late hadn't even warranted a phone call to her.<em>

_It was their anniversary for God's sake, the least he could have done was call her and tell her he'd been kept late!_

_Stirring the sauce with more force than was strictly necessary, her attention was caught by the phone ringing in the next room. Turning the heat on the hob down, Lori wiped her hands on a towel and made her way to the other room to answer it._

_"John, you better have a damn good reason why you're not home right now," she answered without even asking who might be on the other end._

_"Mrs Kelly?"_

_She froze. The caller sounded clinical and detached. She knew then that something was wrong. Terribly wrong._

_Words seemed to fail her, but finally she managed a response. "That's me."_

_"I'm calling from Lennox Hill Hospital, we need you to come down straight away."_

_She knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that something had happened to John – he was the only person that she was next of kin for._

_"What happened? Is he ok – "_

_"Mrs Kelly, the doctor will be able to tell you more when you get here, but it's important that you come as quickly as you can."_

_The cab ride passed in a blur. She remembered little of her journey. Standing outside the hospital, for the first time in her life, Lori genuinely felt the painful pangs of fear crawl through her._

_With little idea of how she'd got there, Lori found herself standing outside the ER department, a number of police officers turning around to look at her as the double doors swung shut behind her. Her eyes scanned the room for a familiar face in the crowd, eventually landing on John's partner, sitting on one of the plastic chairs with his head in his hands. The closer she got, the more blood she saw on his clothes. She knew then that it was bad._

_Andy seemed to sense her presence. Lifting his head, he looked at her in desperation._

_"Laura."_

_Her legs began to shake as she looked at his pale face, his hands still covered in what she knew was her husband's blood. Somewhere in the distance she heard a police radio and the words '__**officer down**__' through the handset. She knew they were talking about John. _

_Her John – her husband, the father of her unborn child._

_Everyone stopped as a doctor made his way into the waiting area, the way his shoulders were slumped was all Lori needed to know that John was dead._

_Her legs crumpled beneath her as she fell to the floor, "No!"_

He'd been too jazzed to go back to sleep after discovering that Lori was finally pregnant. Even their impromptu little celebration had done little to quell his excitement at the prospect of becoming a father for the first time.

He'd been content to watch her sleep for the last few hours, his eyes flicking every so often to the picture of the two of them when they'd first met. The photo had been taken with an old disposable **camera **on one of their earliest dates, both of them grinning like stupid fools in love.

Several years later and the same could still be said for them – just two stupid fools in love. Except this time, they were making a family. Soon it would be three faces instead of just two in those photos and John knew without a doubt that their new home would be filled with pictures of their little bundle of joy.

Sure, this week hadn't had the most **auspicious** of starts but it was looking like it would end very well indeed…

Lori's fidgeting caught his attention. He turned to look at her, smirking at the thought of her dreaming of their most recent romantic liaison. The smile vanished when he saw the tears rolling down her cheeks.

He'd been about to wake her up when she shot up in bed forcefully, screaming.

* * *

><p><em>Authors' Note: This is a continuing story from the writing team of WriterJasmine and Teeheehee1234. It's meant to be a fun attempt at writing a story together based on words that readers provide to us on a weekly basis. For more information about this, please read our profile and please feel free to participate. The 'bolded' words throughout the story are words that some of our reader friends sent our way this week. The words utilized are: <strong>possessive; bittersweet; life-altering; longevity; camera; officer down; block; exotic dancer; neon; auspicious.<strong>_


	5. Chapter 5

SAILING INTO UNCHARTED WATERS

Chapter Five

"Lori, Lori, honey, wake up," urged John, gathering his wife into his arms. "You're dreaming, babe… that's all… just a dream… shush…"

Holding her close, he murmured soothing words into her ear and lightly smoothed her hair. His mouth traveled the slender column of her throat; beneath the silky skin, he could feel her **pulse **racing against his lips. "It's okay, everything's fine," he said softly, attempting to calm her.

Slowly, Laura relaxed. She touched her cheeks, embarrassed at the dampness there. "I'm sorry… the dream… God, Johnny, it was so real…"

John pulled back several inches in order to observe her face. Her expression appeared strained and unhappy in the pale moonlight filtering through the curtains. "Tell me," he said. "Is it the baby? Did you dream something happened to the baby? Are you okay? You gotta tell me if you're not well, Lori!"

Laura swallowed a hiccup, and then took a deep, steadying breath. "It's not the baby," she said.

John heard the slight quaver in her voice and it concerned him. What concerned him even more was the shimmer of tears he saw in her eyes, and the way she bit her lip as she reached out her hand, gently caressing the side of his face. "It's not the baby," she repeated, allowing her thumb to lightly brush his lower lip.

She dropped her hand as she recalled the dream, experiencing once again the horror she'd felt in her nightmare. Quickly, unexpectedly, she pulled John close, holding him tight.

"Lori, what is it?" he asked, puzzled, but returning her embrace. "What was the dream about?"

**Fear** choked her, preventing her from speaking. She had a sudden, terrible superstition that verbalizing her fears might turn them into reality.

During the daylight, Laura was able to handle her worries about John's job. In the daylight, her fears seemed silly, the product of an overwrought imagination.

But the nighttime hours! It was the hours between dusk and dawn that every goblin that ever hid in a child's closet suddenly broke free; those were the hours when Laura's carefully structured defenses collapsed and her worries got the best of her. The **monster** hiding in Laura's closet was her fear of getting a call from Andy telling her that John was hurt – or worse.

It angered her that he was so cavalier about his safety, and she suspected he didn't tell her half the things he experienced working the streets of New York.

She knew he loved the job - that was the problem.

He was smart; he could easily move up the ranks and get a desk job. It would be better pay – and it would be blessedly safe. But he loved the action. There was a part of her husband that enjoyed the violence of the job. He had an Irish temper beneath the gentleness he displayed toward her and those he protected. She'd heard the rumors of his run-ins with the thugs on the street. John Kelly gave as good as he got.

And that's what worried her.

It's what caused her to awaken in the middle of the night while Johnny slept, her heart racing, her breath coming in painful little gasps. That was when she'd get out of bed, unable to go back to sleep.

As her heart settled back into its normal rhythm, she released her hold on John and began to rise from the bed. "I need some water," she said.

"I can get that for you." He started to sit up, but Laura shook her head.

"I need to get up, John."

He watched her leave the bedroom, unsure what to do. He thought about going back to sleep; it would be time to get up for work soon. That's what she wanted, he knew – to be alone with her thoughts. He could always tell and this was one of those times.

_Hell, who am I kidding?_ he thought. _There's no way I'll get any sleep now._ He got out of bed, threw on the blue striped bathrobe, and went in search of his wife.

When he entered the kitchen, she frowned. "Go back to bed, Johnny," she said in a tired voice.

"Tell me about the dream."

She pulled a carton of orange juice from the refrigerator and poured a glass. As she drank the juice, she watched John, sitting at the table, his eyes centered on the blocks and teddy bear she'd placed there earlier that evening. Her heart softened at the look on his face, and she moved to the table and sat down across from him.

"Hard to believe we're really going to have a baby, isn't it?" she asked. A gentle smile played about her lips and she reached across the table for his hand.

He smiled back at her, but his eyes were grave. "I'm happy, Lori, but I'm also worried. What happened back there in the bedroom?"

The smile left her face and her eyes drifted down to their locked hands. "I dreamed I got a call from the hospital. When I got there, Andy was there… he'd been crying. In the background, I kept hearing a police radio…'officer down, officer down…'

"It was you, Johnny. You were the officer." She stopped, unable to go on.

John exhaled deeply, shaking his head. "It was a dream, Lori. Just a dream."

"_This_ time…"

"Hey, I'm right here. I'm fine."

Laura said nothing, continuing to stare at their hands.

John hated seeing her this way. In spite of his attempt to reassure her, he realized her fears were legitimate. He still remembered the day his father's life had ended. Jack Kelly had walked through the wrong door at the wrong time. The last time his ten-year old **son** saw him, he was lying in a hospital bed, surrounded by medical equipment with tubes going in and out of him. His dad never even opened his eyes to say goodbye…

The memory of it still haunted John, making it difficult for him to enter the hospital where his father died, even on the occasions when his job demanded it.

But like his old man, John was a cop; it was his **calling**. Lori was unable to understand that, and he didn't know how to explain it to her. He was beginning to think the job would always be between them, but he didn't know what to do about it. He knew Lori wanted him off the streets, but a desk jockey wasn't who he was. He was like his dad, a street cop through and through.

The world was sometimes a shitty place. He wanted to make it a little less so. And now that he had a baby on the way, it was even more important to him to make a difference. He wanted to hand his kid a better world in which to live, one that was just a little better because John Kelly, Jr. had made it so. Sentimental? Yeah. And probably a losing battle, but that's how he felt.

Lori squeezed his hand. "Johnny, you were shot at today. You might not have been fine. You might not have come home to me… _to us_. You might never have known you were going to be a father!"

He took a deep breath. "Yeah, but it didn't work out that way, did it? You can't second-guess every encounter, Lori. And you can't live your life worrying about what might have been – not if you want to do your job effectively. That kind of thinking is a **liability** for a cop."

A shaky laugh escaped her, one tinged with irritation. "The **intrepid** Johnny Kelly! Defender of Truth, Justice and the American Way."

"I hope so," he said, his voice and eyes serious. "I've got an **obligation** to the people of this city."

"You've got an obligation to your _child_," said Lori, removing her hand from his. She stood up, frustrated by his refusal to understand how afraid she was.

"You're right," he agreed. "I do. And it's for him that I'm doing this. I want him to have a good life."

"How can he have a good life if you're not here?" She ran a hand through her hair, and tears once again threatened. "God, I hate this! Your need to be a crusader ruins even the happiest moments! I didn't want to fight tonight… I wanted this to be a wonderful night… instead… instead…"

Her words drifted off into nothing, and she stood there in the middle of the kitchen, wondering where all the bright anticipation had fled to. It was always like this. Always.

John stood up and crossed the room to her. "Hey, it's okay. Look, I'm careful. You think I don't want to be around? You think I don't want to grow old with you, see my kid grow up? I'm not going to jeopardize any of that. You gotta trust me, Lori."

What could she say to that, she wondered. She'd married a cop. And she loved him. She'd have to find a way to cope; what else could she do?

She watched John visibly relax. He seemed to sense he'd won some sort of battle. _Well, I guess he has_, she thought. _I can't let his job come between us. Not now._

"Johnny, you have to do something about Andy."

He stiffened. "Lori, please… not now."

"If not _now_, then _when_?" She reached for his hand. "I'm serious. Please think about what I'm saying. He needs help. You know that! He's not himself."

"He's going through a rough patch. He'll come through it. He's worried about his kid; his ex is hanging him out to dry… he's got a lot on his plate."

Laura gave him a skeptical look. "I don't give a damn about his plate. What I care about is _your_ safety. When you're out on the street, you need to know that Andy is exercising good judgment, that he has your back. It's enough worry for me that you refuse to get off the street, but…"

She stopped and took a deep breath. Something Johnny said to her when they first began going together came to mind in that moment: _Never tell me what to do, Lori. Suggest… just suggest…_

Keeping his macho pride in mind, she tried another tack with her stubborn husband. "Okay, I get it. Andy is going through a bad time. You're his friend… you want to help him through it."

"That's right. I owe him a lot. I wouldn't be where I am without his taking me under his wing all those years ago."

Laura doubted that, but she kept her thoughts to herself. "John, can you talk him into getting some help? Talk to him. Please, get him some help… maybe I'll sleep better at night."

He nodded and then kissed the palm of her hand. "I'll talk to him."

* * *

><p>Andy woke the next morning feeling like he'd crawled out of a sewer. Another night that had started out with good intentions and then gone in the opposite direction. His tongue felt like sandpaper; the taste in his mouth was foul. He rolled over onto his side to look at the clock.<p>

_Christ! Where the hell did she come from?_

Lying next to him, her mouth wide open, was the redheaded dancer from the Strutting Peacock. Sounds of faint snuffling escaped the sleeping woman each time she inhaled.

Andy frowned. He had a vague memory of the girl doing a complimentary lap dance for him… after that his memory was sort of foggy. He stared at the large, uncovered breasts that lay flaccid on either side of her chest. They didn't look quite so **pert **without the tassels that had covered them the night before. Or had his vision returned along with his sobriety?

The redhead looked older than he'd taken her for in the smoky dimness of the club last night; the morning sunlight gave evidence of slight lines around her mouth and puffiness under her eyes.

_What the hell was her name? JoJo… Jolene? No… JoEllen… yeah, JoEllen._

He looked past her to the alarm clock on night table and groaned. He should have been at work thirty minutes ago. Fancy was going to have his ass if this continued.

Andy tried to sit up, but quickly fell back onto the mattress. His head ached like a son of a bitch!

He looked again at the redhead. _Christ! What had he been thinking?_

But that's just it… he hadn't been thinking.

Not with his brain, anyway.

"Hey, you, Sleeping Beauty," he said. His voice was so raspy he almost didn't recognize it. "C'mon, Sunshine, time to rise and move it." He shook the redhead's shoulder.

Slowly, she opened one eye, and then the other. "Jesus, Andy! What's your problem?"

"My problem is I shoulda been at work half an hour ago. I gotta get dressed – and you gotta get out of here." With a grimace, he finally rose to his feet. Lurching over to where his trousers lay on the floor, he reached down for them. He fished around in his pocket and pulled out his wallet.

Well, at least she wasn't a thief; his money was still there.

"How much do I owe you?" he asked, eyeing her up.

"Now don't be that way. You don't owe me nuthin', Andy Pandy. I had a real good time last night."

She got out of bed and approached him, a seductive smile on her face. Andy thought she was going to kiss him, but instead she reached for his **balls **and gave them a quick, expert squeeze.

"Hm… nice piece of **property **you got there, darlin'. How about we try a little **experiment**? You get back in that bed and we'll see how quickly I can make you forget all about needin' to get to work. What do you say, darlin'?"

Andy stepped back. "Sorry, Sunshine. Not today. You gotta go. Now." He pulled a fifty from his wallet and held it out to her. "Here, buy yourself a dress or something."

The redhead frowned at him. "I don't want no goddam dress, and I don't want your money either."

Andy shrugged and tossed the money on the bed. "Well, that's a newsflash… the whore with a heart of gold, turning down good hard cash."

"How dare you!" gasped the woman. "Who the hell do you think you are?"

Andy exhaled heavily, shook his head and turned his back on her. "Look, kid, the night is over, okay? Get dressed. Go on… beat it."

"I see how it is," she said, gathering up her clothes. She pulled her dress over her head, and stuffed her underwear into a large purse sitting at the foot of the bed. "Last night it was all pretty words and eager hands; today, nuthin'! You ain't a gentleman."

"That's the truth," he muttered, more to himself than to her. She might be a whore, but she was right. His behavior last night had been **loathsome**. He'd taken her home and screwed her until liquor and exhaustion overcame him. She'd been nothing to him… just some bimbo he met at the club. Broads like her were a dime a dozen.

Even as he thought it, an inner voice admonished him. _Don't be a __**sanctimonious **__prick, Sipowicz. You're no better than she is._

She slid into her high heels and, finally dressed, walked quickly to the door.

The fifty-dollar bill was still lying on the bed.

"Go ahead, kid, take the money," he said, resolved to be kind. "You earned it."

She ignored him and opened the door. Just as she was about to leave, she turned and looked at him. "You ain't no nice guy. You talk a real good show… but you ain't no nice guy."

Andy watched the door close behind her.

_She was right._

He wasn't a nice guy.

**To be continued.**

* * *

><p>Authors' Note: This is a continuing story from the writing team of WriterJasmine and Teeheehee1234. It's meant to be a fun attempt at writing a story together based on words that readers provide to us on a weekly basis. For more information about this, please read our profile and please feel free to participate. The 'bolded' words throughout the story are words that some of our reader friends sent our way this week. The words utilized are: <strong>pulse; fear; monster; son; calling; liability; intrepid; obligation; pert; balls; property; experiment; loathsome; <strong>and **sanctimonious.**


	6. Chapter 6

SAILING INTO UNCHARTED WATERS

Chapter Six

Waking up with a groan, John was disappointed to find Lori no longer in the bed with him. Despite his best intentions, fatigue and the still-painful wound on his arm had caused him to fall back asleep again.

At least Lori had come back to bed with him. He'd held her close, trying to reassure her through touch alone that he wasn't going anywhere. She'd clung to him as if he would disappear at any moment. It hadn't mattered what he'd said, the dream had shaken Lori so much that she'd begun to cry again as soon as he'd guided her back to the bedroom.

"I'm sorry," she'd sniffed as he covered her with the comforter and climbed in beside her, pulling her close to his body and kissing the top of her head. "It's these damned **hormones**. Guess you're going to have to get used to me being like this."

"I'll take you any way you come, Lori. We're in this together, ok?"

Laura let out a small laugh, brushing her husband's cheek with the softest touch of her fingertips, yet there was a touch of **melancholy** in her tone. "You might not say that when I scream at you to get me pickles and ice cream in the middle of the night."

He turned her face to look at him. "I'd do anything for you. You know that, right?"

_Except give up your damned job! _

Not wanting to cause another disagreement, Laura nodded her head, kissed John goodnight and settled in his warm arms, trying to catch a few more precious moments of uninterrupted sleep.

Pulling on his striped robe, John walked into the kitchen. Realising that Lori hadn't heard him enter the room, he took the opportunity to sneak up behind her, grabbing her waist and grinding his hips against her backside.

"Good morning to you too," she smirked, twisting her head and placing a quick kiss on his mouth before returning her attention to the stove.

"Is that all I get?" John asked, sitting down at the kitchen table, his robe hanging open as he rubbed a finger distractedly on the table.

"Jesus, John. Is that _all _you ever think about?"

He looked almost affronted at the remark. "No. I just wanted to check that we were ok. You know…..after last night."

The uncertainty in his voice made her feel **weak** at the knees. John had always given the impression to the outside world that he was tough and strong; as hard as any of the criminals he took off the streets. With an Irish temper and a stubborn streak a mile wide, John wasn't the kind of man who would back down from a fight; he'd stand by his **principles **and defend what he knew to be right.

Yet Laura knew that she alone had the power to make him feel vulnerable. Beneath the tough guy exterior was nothing more than a little boy who wanted to love and be loved in return. When the apartment door closed at night, he'd no longer be John Kelly: streetwise cop, he'd be Johnny, her husband and the father of her unborn child. He'd lower his defences and allow her to see him faults and all.

Walking over to him, she wrapped her hands around the back of his neck and kissed him languidly, hoping to convey with actions the love she felt for the stubborn, complicated and devoted man who had stolen her heart.

She felt herself being pushed down onto his lap and the desire stirring in his loins as his kisses became more fervent. With a heavy heart, she pulled out of his embrace, touching her bottom lip as she saw the dismay on his face.

"I thought you said we were ok?" John looked puzzled as to why she'd pushed him away.

She hadn't wanted to, but one of them had to be **restrained. **Though they were both passionate people, hiding behind sex wouldn't paper over the cracks in their relationship. With a baby on the way, it was more important than ever that they were united. It simply wouldn't be fair to bring an innocent child into the world with two parents who couldn't see eye to eye on where their lives were heading.

"We are, but we're both going to be late for work. We've got a lot of things to sort out; we need to start making plans for the baby."

John nodded his head, running a hand over his face as he looked at his wife. "You're right. I'm gonna talk to some realtors today, see if we can find a bigger place for us."

He could tell by the strained look on her face that there was something she wanted to say.

"What is it, Lori?" he asked, rising from the chair and placing his hands on her hips. "You can tell me, you know that, right?"

She chewed on her bottom lip, not wanting to bring up the thorny subject of his career again.

"Please, Lori. Tell me what's bothering you."

She could feel his fingers brush over her cheek, tucking the loose strands of hair behind her ear. Her eyes dropped to where his other hand rested on her hip.

"What if we can't afford somewhere bigger?"

"We'll find a way," he replied, placing a kiss on her forehead.

"On a cop's salary?"

There, she'd said it. She knew she had to remain strong, her steely glare all but **daring** John to react in kind. His response was unexpected.

"I'll put in for extra shifts. We'll find the money."

"That's not what I meant!"

His eyes widened momentarily, the meaning of her words finally sinking in. "Please, sweetheart. Not this again."

"Johnny, we have to consider what's best for our child. You need to be here too, I can't bring a kid up all by myself."

"You won't have to, I'll be here."

Maybe it was the hormones, but she just couldn't shake the effects of the dream last night.

"You can't if you're always working…or worse. What if something happens to you?"

Laura had no doubt that the hormones were kicking in now as her bottom lip began to tremble. "I can't lose you. I love you."

His hands caressed her cheeks as he placed another soft kiss on her forehead before leaning it against his own.

"I'm not going anywhere, I promise you."

* * *

><p>Andy made his way into the precinct feeling like a complete prick. The lap dancer he'd taken home last night hadn't deserved to be spoken to like that. Waking up next to her he'd felt a sense of self-loathing wash over him. Sure, he could have been more <strong>sophisticated <strong>in the way he went about giving her the brush off, but he was nothing more than a **feckless** idiot – especially when it came to women.

How could his life have fallen apart so quickly? Was it really all that long ago that he had a wife who loved him and a kid who looked up to him?All he had now was his need to drink. When inhebriated, he could push aside the feelings of guilt, the feelings of disgust that he had for himself and the mess of a man he'd become. It was no wonder the wife left, who'd want to stick around with someone like him?

He'd almost got John killed yesterday. How much more would it take for him to sober up and realise that he was becoming a liability to his partner?

Maybe that was the problem, he was never sober enough to realise what a worthless piece of shit he was. The booze had a way of making him feel a little less guilty, a little less ashamed of what he'd become. Instead of going home to wife that loved him, he spent his nights sleeping with whatever tart would have him.

The alcohol was starting to make him paranoid too, as if everyone around him had some ulterior motive. How many times had he convinced himself that even the people who cared about him had some kind of **vendetta** against him?

He'd even doubted John the other day. The kid who looked up to him as some kind of role model when it came to being a good cop. John Kelly Jnr was as honest and straight as they came, to be **disloyal** was not a part of his makeup. He'd taken John's innocent comment the wrong way and all but threatened to clean the man's clock because of it.

Worse than the shock on John's face had been the momentary flash of hurt that crossed his features. John had been quiet and distant for the rest of the shift and it wasn't as if he could blame him for it either. He hadn't even had the good grace to go and apologise at the end of the day and yet John had said nothing of it since, brushing it under the carpet as if nothing had ever happened.

Andy heard his partner make his way into the squad room. He cursed his own weakness for not being able to look up and greet John as he saw him pull the chair out from his desk and sit opposite.

"You ok, Andy?"

He closed his eyes, feeling the guilt wash over him again as John gingerly pulled his jacket off of his injured left arm – the injury he wouldn't have had if it hadn't been for his fuck-up of a partner.

"Andy?"

"What?" he snapped, instantly regretting it.

"I take it you watched the **baseball** last night?"

Andy nodded his head. He didn't have a clue as to who was playing, let alone who might have won or lost last night.

"The Yankees got thumped, huh? Didn't see that one coming. I figured they were one of the better **teams** this year."

Andy nodded his head again, not really taking in anything John was saying. This time he looked up and found his partner looking at him like an excitable kid. Just because his Mets were doing better than the Yankees this season it was no reason to look so Goddamn happy about it.

"What is it with you this morning, you're sitting there like you've got a flea up your ass."

The squad room was almost full; it took Andy by surprise how quickly John had stood up and asked everyone to be quiet. What the hell was the kid up to?

"Hey everyone, I wanted you all to know that in," John glanced at his watch for dramatic effect, "in about eight month's time that I'm gonna be a father!"

Even though the cheering and back-slapping went on all around him, Andy couldn't have felt worse if he'd tried. His actions yesterday seemed to hit him full force as he realised that, a couple of inches to the right, and John might never have known that he was going to be a father.

Looking at his partner, Andy could see that the kid was rightly **ecstatic** to be breaking the news to his colleagues. Hell, as his partner he should've been the one handing John the **cigars** to celebrate his good news. Yet he couldn't. He couldn't because he was no more than a selfish alcoholic who couldn't see past the end of his own whiskey glass.

Everyone was smiling and laughing, even Fancy had given John a handshake and a slap on the back as he came out to find out what all the commotion was about. Everyone was smiling except him and the street cop who'd walked in just as John had broken the news.

What was her name? Licalsi?

Something like that anyway. Not that he was any good at reading the emotions of women, but he couldn't help but notice a strange look cross her face, even though she made her way into the squad room and congratulated John on his impending fatherhood.

_Pull yourself together, you asshole!_

Yanking his pants over his stomach as he stood, Andy held out a hand to his partner, not expecting John to pull him into an excited hug. He broke away quickly, feeling awkward at the outward show of emotion from his young partner.

"Congratulations, kid. Bet it feels good to know that you're not shooting blanks, huh?"

Andy regretted the words instantly, knowing that John and his wife had been struggling to conceive since they'd got married. His poorly-chosen words were enough to wipe the smile off of John's face.

Kicking himself, Andy made his excuses and headed for the men's room.

* * *

><p>She couldn't deny that the dream last night was still playing on her mind when she arrived for work that morning.<p>

"You feeling better today?" Tina asked, seeing Laura enter the reception.

She gave her secretary a brief smile. "I do."

It was a lie, something deep inside made her worry all the more for John's safety now that he was going to be a father.

"Did you make it to that appointment yesterday? You didn't look too good when you left at lunchtime."

While a part of Laura appreciated the concern, the negative part of her resented the fact that Tina was trying to pull the truth from her. She'd only just got the news herself and was still struggling to comprehend what being pregnant actually meant.

She had no doubt that John had headed to the precinct and told everyone of their news. The man was like a child in a grown man's body at times; his juvenile excitement and enthusiasm had been one of the things that attracted her to him in the first place.

But she didn't want to tempt fate by saying anything too soon. Maybe she was being superstitious, but she didn't feel comfortable telling her work colleagues until she was a few more weeks along.

Turning toward her office, Laura promised herself that she'd get the first trimester out of the way before she broke the news to anyone, although if John had his way it would be on the front page of the New York Times by tomorrow…..

It suddenly occurred to Laura that she'd forgotten to answer Tina's question. Giving her secretary another brief smile, she answered, "I did. And I went straight home afterward."

Tina returned her smile as she looked up from her typing. "I hope that husband of yours took good care of you when he got home."

"Well, I do have him pretty well-trained," Laura joked even though her smile faltered. As much as she knew that John was devoted to her, a part of her wondered whether he was more devoted to being a cop than he was a husband and father.

**To be continued.**

* * *

><p><strong>Authors' Note: <strong>This is a continuing story from the writing team of WriterJasmine and Teeheehee1234. It's meant to be a fun attempt at writing a story together based on words that readers provide to us on a weekly basis. For more information about this, please read our profile and please feel free to participate. The 'bolded' words throughout the story are words that some of our reader friends sent our way this week. The words utilized are**: **feckless; sophisticated; melancholy; hormones; weak; vendetta; restrained; disloyal; principles; daring; baseball; teams; cigars; ecstatic.****


	7. Chapter 7

SAILING INTO UNCHARTED WATERS

Chapter Seven

_Several weeks later…_

"Shit," muttered John when the "A" key on his typewriter jammed yet again.

For the last twenty minutes he'd been intermittently cursing under his breath. He was trying to complete the report on the collar he'd made earlier in the day. The report should have taken ten minutes at best, but the faulty equipment in the squad room made everything take twice as long. Forced to stop every few seconds to unjam the **broken** key, he was short of patience.

"You'd think the guys upstairs could spring for some better equipment!"

He felt Arthur Fancy's presence behind him before the lieutenant spoke. "John, you know how it is… budget cuts. Always." Fancy sighed. He was as pissed as John at the broken down equipment his men had to contend with.

"Yeah, yeah… always the same story," remarked John, not bothering to look up. He knew Fancy did the best he could and he sympathized. He wouldn't want the lieutenant's job for love nor money.

For his part, Fancy stood silently for several seconds. The lieutenant was at a loss as to how to bring up the sensitive subject he wanted to discuss with his favorite detective. He knew the close bond between Kelly and Sipowicz, but it was time to address the situation. Finally, throwing caution to the wind, he blurted it out.

"John, where's Andy?"

John froze, and light pouring through the grimy windows of Precinct 15 caught the ginger highlights in the younger cop's **flaming** red hair. The sight made Fancy smile in spite of the tense discussion he was about to have with Kelly. He paused, studying the silent young man.

Youngest cop on the force to ever make detective, John Kelly had a good career in front of him – if he wanted it. The instincts that made him so successful on the streets would make him a good lieutenant someday. Maybe even captain, if he was serious above moving up the promotional ladder.

He was savvy and intuitive. He had a temper – that red hair wasn't for nothing – but he was able to control it. Kelly was dependable in a pinch. Most of all, he was loyal. Fancy liked the way John **unconditionally** looked out for the other cops in the squad room. Every cop learned early the importance of having a fellow officer at his back, ready to step in and do the necessary. Kelly was that kind of man.

That's what made the discussion he was about to have with him all the more difficult.

"John?" he repeated, waiting for an answer.

His face grim, John turned to meet his superior's eyes. "Andy wasn't feeling well… something he ate."

Fancy wasn't buying it. "Ate… _or_ drank?"

"Look, Lieutenant, you've got it all wrong. We stopped for lunch at Geppi's diner. You know Geppi's – it's a dump. We shoulda known better. Anyway, Andy ate something that didn't agree with him – he ended up running for the bathroom even before we left the diner. I told him to go home… he wasn't going to be much use to me with a bellyache."

Fancy said nothing, continuing to stare at John. John met him gaze for gaze. Finally, Fancy backed down, shaking his head.

"John, this has to stop. You know it and I know it."

"Lieutenant, don't make more of this than it is."

"Come on, John! This is serious. Sipowicz has been skating on thin ice for several weeks now. His behavior is becoming more **extreme **each day." Exasperated, he pounded a fist on John's desk. "You can't keep carrying him, understand?"

"I'm not carrying him," protested John.

"Yes, you are." Fancy's voice became very quiet. "You are – and you're not helping him any. If this keeps up, I'm going to have to split the two of you up. Don't you see it? He's being **unfair** to you, taking advantage of your feelings for him.

"You keep covering for him and one day something bad is going to happen. It's going to happen to him or it's going to happen to you. This isn't the boy scouts, John. When you're out on the street, you need a partner you can depend on – not one sitting in Patrick's Saloon, belting back a few."

John was silent, unsure what to say. His thoughts flashed briefly on the conversation he'd had with Lori a few weeks ago. It had been eerily similar to this one.

"I'll talk to him, Lieutenant."

"You do that," said Fancy.

"Hey, man, you okay?" asked one of the cops after Fancy had gone back inside his office. He'd overheard the conversation and had been watching John closely.

"Yeah, I'm fine." John yanked at the piece of paper in the typewriter, pulling it from the carriage. He signed his name to the report and tossed it into his outbox.

"Good," said the cop. "You know, the couple of times you and I worked together, we had a good thing going. If you go looking for a new partner, you know where to come, okay?"

John looked at him. "I'm _not _looking for a new partner, got it? This is just a misunderstanding."

The cop smirked and shook his head. "Yeah, man, whatever you say. Still, the offer is on the table."

* * *

><p>John was leaving for the day when Fancy beckoned him inside his office. Expecting a continuation of their earlier conversation about Andy, he was surprised when the lieutenant thrust some sort of notice at him.<p>

"What's this?" he asked.

"It's an opening for a lieutenant's position further uptown. Thought you might be interested."

John frowned. "You trying to get rid of me, sir?"

Fancy smiled. "Not at all. Look, John, it's a good opportunity. Better hours, more money. You've got what it takes – and I'm willing to go to bat for you."

John was touched. Fancy played his cards close to his chest, and he and the other detectives sometimes had trouble figuring the man out. Knowing that Fancy believed in his ability to take on the position meant a lot to John.

"Thanks, Lieutenant – I appreciate the vote of confidence," he said, handing the notice back to him.

"No," said Fancy, refusing to take it. "You keep this. Think about it. You've got a baby on the way – I'm sure you could use the extra money, and I'm sure your wife would feel better knowing you were behind a desk."

"Hey, look, Lieutenant, I'm not seeking to make a career change…"

Fancy interrupted. "Take the notice and just think about it. That's all. Now go home, John – enjoy the weekend. I'm sure your wife is waiting for you."

* * *

><p>Walking into the apartment, John found Lori's note:<p>

_I've gone to look at some color cards at the paint store.  
><em>_Maybe we can paint the baby's room tomorrow.  
><em>_I'll pick up some take-away on my way home.  
><em>_There's cold beer in the 'fridge. Have one and sit back – I won't be long_.

Reading the note, John was troubled. Lori was determined to stay in the apartment rather than look for a new place.

Pulling a beer from the refrigerator, he popped the lid and sat down at the kitchen table. He thought about taking a shower, but he was so damned tired. He had not only taken care of _his _duties that day, he'd covered for Andy as well. It had to stop – Lori and Fancy were right. He knew it, but he wasn't sure what to do about it. There was a part of him that shrank from confronting his partner.

He still had a lot of respect for Andy. Affection, too.

He looked at Lori's note again. _Paint cards_… he'd forgotten they'd agreed to paint the spare bedroom this weekend.

Feeling tense, he took a large swig of the cold beer, remembering the argument they'd had a few nights before.

Lately, it seemed all they did was argue.

John wanted a bigger house for his child; he didn't want to bring a kid up in an apartment. Neither did Lori, and yet she seemed to be using the apartment as a weapon to force him into taking a desk job.

He thought once they'd conceived the baby, it would bring them closer. Instead, Lori seemed more withdrawn than ever. She was often sad and confused, clinging to him late at night; at other times, she was **moody** and distant.

When she'd remarked that they couldn't afford a bigger place, he had offered to work a second shift. The unpleasant surprise in her eyes had taken him aback.

_"__My God, Johnny – what can you be thinking? The last thing I want you to do is work extra hours on the street!"_

_"__It wouldn't have to be on the street, Lori; I could get a job doing private security work."_

_"__Why? Why would you work extra hours when all you have to do is apply for the next available desk job? John, you're not a twenty-five year old with no family responsibilities! Leave that to the younger men. Do you remember how you felt when your father died? Do you remember your mother? Is that what you want for us?"_

_"__Of course not," he said, suddenly furious. "Do you think I'm selfish? I want the best for you and my kid… but Christ, Lori… why do you make everything so damned hard? You've known from the beginning that I love police work! You didn't go into this with your eyes closed!"_

_At that, Laura burst into tears. "I know… I know… but it's different now. I'm scared. It's not just the baby… I don't want to lose you! I can't sleep at night… the dreams… Maybe it's a __**premonition**__, a warning of things to come_… _every time I turn on the TV or the radio I hear of a police officer who has been killed in the line of duty. What if that happens to you? I worry all the time! I'm pregnant with our child, Johnny – is that what you want? My worrying about you, being upset all the time?"_

The memory of that conversation and his actions afterward still bothered him, and John took a deep swallow of beer, letting the cool liquid slide down his throat.

Yeah, slide down his throat and anesthetize him. He wasn't too proud of the way he'd acted after Laura had admitted to being frightened.

Instead of staying to comfort her, he had walked out of the apartment, too angry to continue the conversation. He'd walked a fair distance that night, deep in thought. An hour later, he'd found himself standing outside his mother's house.

That's when the idea of their moving in with his mother had occurred to him. It was a big old house, well built, in good shape. It had a nice little yard… just right for a kid. He had a lot of good **memories** of growing up there… at least until his dad was killed.

It was a **creative** solution to the problem of a bigger place – he wouldn't have to work an extra shift to pay for more space, his mother would welcome the company, and it would be a great neighborhood for a kid to grow up in.

Still, he'd never brought the idea up to Lori. In the end, he realized it was a poor solution. His mother was becoming more forgetful. His sister, Kathleen, came three or four times a week to check on her. It wouldn't be fair to Lori – or any new mother – to put her in a situation where she'd wind up caring not only for a baby, but also a mother-in-law. Besides, it was likely Lori would return to work after the baby was born. They'd be looking for day care.

Problem after problem… endless complications. This should be a happy time; why were things so damn difficult? It frightened him to consider that there might be no way to **extricate** themselves from the arguments they'd begun having.

_C'mon, Kelly… you know there's a solution, but you're too damn selfish to consider it. _

He set the beer on the table and pulled from his pocket the notice that Fancy had given him.

The lieutenant was right. John knew he could do the job. Hell, he'd made detective at twenty-eight; why not lieutenant at thirty-six?

_I have to figure a way out_, he thought. _I've got a kid on the way. I love my wife. Maybe… maybe, Lori is right. Maybe I'm being selfish, being on the streets, when I have a family_.

With a sense of guilt, he quickly downed the last of his beer.

He knew the statistics. Most cops ended up divorced. Too many times, their jobs sucked the life out of them. Was that happening to him? Was he craving the excitement of the streets more than he was a happy family life? The excitement, the danger – it was like a drug; it could be addicting. It happened to other cops. They ended up sacrificing their families to their own need for action. He knew that.

Look at Andy… did he want to end up like his friend?

He heard the door open and hastily shoved the notice back inside his pocket.

"Johhny?" called Lori from the living room.

"In here, babe."

She walked into the kitchen, putting some cartons on the table. She looked flushed and happy. Her eyes were sparkling and her cheeks were rosy. He smiled. She was so damned pretty! Pregnancy obviously agreed with her appearance. Her body, always well rounded, was firmer and fuller than ever. She never failed to excite him – even when just walking into a room.

"Hi, beautiful – how'd you make out?" he asked.

She came over and kissed him on the mouth. "Pretty good. I picked up the paint cards – I want your opinion – I'm torn between five different shades of yellow."

He grimaced. "You're kidding, right? Yellow is yellow."

She laughed. "Men! No, yellow is NOT yellow. I had 15 paint cards of yellow, but narrowed our choices down to just the five. I'll show them to you after dinner. Hungry?"

He looked at the cartons; one especially caught his attention and he sniffed at it. "Hmm… Chinese. What's in here?"

"That one is mushu **pork**. But I also have shrimp chow mein, and some other goodies – like fortune cookies. I bet one of them says you're gonna be a daddy." She smiled widely. "I'm starving. I kind of like this eating for two thing – gives me carte blanche to over indulge. Will you love me when I'm fat?"

Looking at her fuller, still sexy body, he grinned. "I think I can stand it."

One thing he knew would never change between them – the passion. No woman ever got to him the way Lori did. There was something challenging in her large brown eyes, in the way she looked at him, in the way she held herself. She made him **horny** without even trying. A lot of couples didn't have half of what they had going for them.

That's why he knew they'd make it.

And that's why he knew he'd do whatever he had to for her and the kid.

He stood up and reached for her, surprising her with his sudden passion. "Dinner," she began.

"Can wait," he finished.

He carried her into the bedroom, resolute in his determination to look into the new position when he returned to work on Monday.

The streets were exciting and made him feel alive; his home life, however, was more important.

To be continued.

* * *

><p><em><span>Author's Note<span>: This is a continuing story from the writing team of WriterJasmine and Teeheehee1234. It's meant to be a fun attempt at writing a story together based on words that readers provide to us on a weekly basis. For more information about this, please read our profile and please feel free to participate. The 'bolded' words throughout the story are words that some of our reader friends sent our way this week. The words utilized are: **broken; flaming; unconditionally; extreme; unfair; moody; premonition; memories; creative; extricate; pork;** and **horny**._


	8. Chapter 8

Well, whatever else happened in the next eight months, John knew that the **magic** between he and Lori could never be doused. Their interlude in the bedroom last night meant the take out had gone cold by the time they'd made their way back to the kitchen, yet the sexual gratification meant that neither of them really cared.

He'd been restless for most of the night while Lori slept soundly in his arms, a contented smile gracing those beautiful lips that he loved to lose himself in. She'd slept without a care in the world while he'd done nothing except churn over the endless problems that seemed to be plaguing their lives at the moment.

After living together and getting married, starting a family and moving into a bigger place were the next logical steps in their relationship, yet there were major roadblocks preventing them from doing that. Real estate in New York had always been hideously expensive and there was no way that they would be able to afford to rent, let alone buy a house anywhere within a 50 mile radius of the city.

As far as he could see there were only two options: take extra shifts at the precinct or take Fancy up on the offer of supporting his application for the lieutenant's position at the 23rd Precinct. But he was still young for a cop; mid-thirties was nothing when it came to most men in the squad room. Did he really want to take up a **management **position when he still had so much to offer as a detective out on the streets?

Perhaps it was his male pride talking when he considered the **consequences** of taking a desk job. He'd always seen himself as a fit and healthy man and in the prime of his life. Would sitting behind a desk all day drinking coffee and eating doughnuts make him lose the lean figure that had served him so well during his time as a cop?

Somehow he couldn't see himself running down the street chasing a perp with a gut the size of a heavily pregnant woman. Sure, he could still play pickup games with the guys at the YMCA, but it would only be a matter of time before work would get in the way. There would be endless meetings to attend, paperwork to sign off on….and it would make him lazy….and fat.

Lori wouldn't stand for him letting himself go either. How the hell would he be able to teach his kids to play ball when he'd be too fat to even keep up with them?

Maybe he was making issues when there weren't any, but taking the position as lieutenant had the **potential** to create as many issues as it solved. The money would be better, the hours more regular and it would put Lori's mind at rest to know that he wasn't out on the streets on a daily basis, but would the hassle involved in managing not only his own life but that of a dozen or more men be more stress than it was worth?

Getting the position would change everything in his life and he wasn't overly sure that he was ready for that. Maybe Fancy was right: he needed time to think it over properly, to weigh up the pros and cons before he made a definitive decision on the matter.

He'd all but given up on sleep, dozing fitfully until he heard Lori stir beside him.

"Hey, beautiful," he murmured, placing a sensuous kiss on her slightly parted lips.

Lori sighed, her ample chest rising and falling at the simple pleasure of the contact. "What a nice way to wake up."

"Well, we aim to please here at Casa Kelly."

John knew he had a shit-eating grin on his face but he couldn't help it, knowing he was one lucky son of a bitch to have a woman as beautiful as Lori in his bed.

"What's the plan for today?" he asked, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear.

Pulling herself further up, Lori looked at her husband in some amusement. "You and I are going to narrow down which shade of yellow we need and then we'll get started painting the **baby's room.** What do you think?"

He answered her with a searing kiss.

"John, we haven't got time for that. We've got too much to do today; we need to get ready for the baby."

He pulled away slowly, trying to dampen the ardour that he felt for Lori, yet the tenting of the bed sheets gave him away. "Uh, I'm finding it a little hard at the moment."

Lori could see the evidence of his arousal from the **corner** of her eye, a sly grin crossing her face, her hand reaching under the sheet and making its way further down his body. "Well, let's see what we can do about that….."

* * *

><p>Another bar, another whore, another hangover.<p>

This was turning out to be more than a week of shitty days. It was a month of shitty weeks in a year full of shitty months. He'd spent the last God knows how long drinking and pissing his worthless life away.

After promising himself to do better, he'd let John down yet again. John wasn't stupid, he could see that his partner had been drinking yet he'd said nothing but to tell him to go home and sleep it off. Andy had nodded his head and agreed, giving John a sheepish smile as they parted ways on the corner of West and 34th.

He'd ended up in another dead-end bar, drinking the afternoon away while his partner sat in the squad room typing up the reports that they should have been completing together. But yesterday afternoon, he didn't feel guilt at letting his friend down, he just felt the overwhelming urge to drink and keep drinking until he puked or passed out – possibly both.

The trigger for his latest drinking binge? The fact that he'd forgotten his own son's **birthday.**

His ex-wife never turned down an opportunity to stick the knife in, yet he couldn't deny that this time he deserved every word she threw his way.

"Andy Jnr was **distraught**," she'd told him in a tone somewhere between fury and disdain. "How on earth could you do that to your own child?"

Andy Jnr was less of a child, becoming more like a grown man each day – not that he'd seen much of him recently to substantiate his theory. He'd promised his boy that, after the **divorce, **he'd still be a big part of his life.

It had worked for a while, until his desire to drink ruined his chance of maintaining a healthy relationship with Andy Jnr. Nancy had always seized on any opportunity to **manipulate** a situation to her own ends and this lapse in memory had been no different – Andy Jnr was nothing more than a pawn in their vicious game, one that was designed to inflict maximum damage on the opponent with seemingly little or no regard to how it would affect their only child.

They'd been happy once, hadn't they? He was sure that there was once a time that he and Nancy had been young and in love, with their whole lives ahead of them. Looking back it seemed naïve and stupid to consider the notion that they would live happily ever after. Maybe they never really loved each other in the first place.

He knew he wasn't a bad man, not really. When he'd signed up to the NYPD it had been with the intention of doing something meaningful with his life, making a difference to the community and the city he served. Yet too many years of seeing the darker side of life had sucked out most of the joy within him. How many murdered kids, rape victims? Hw many innocent victims of brutal crimes had he come across in his 25+ years on the job?

Too many.

Hope may have been the **antithesis** of despair, yet it had been his misfortune to find that despair had been the stronger. Despair had gripped at his soul, squeezing the life from him, pushing him further into the downward spiral that was slowly draining away the little of the good man he'd once been.

Like a boxer who'd taken too many hits, the fight had been beaten out of him until he could see nothing but the bottom of the next bottle of scotch. Drinking made the images of the dead and abused fade away into the darkness until he could no longer see the eyes of those helpless victims who pleaded with him to help them.

Drinking numbed the pain that he felt for every victim he'd ever met. Drinking dulled the voices that hounded him, the smell of alcohol masking that of burned and rotting flesh. Alcohol wrapped him in its warm and comforting embrace, allowing him just a few moments of peace…..

Screw it. Who was he to get all **misty-eyed** about past regrets? A turd would always be a turd - no matter how much you polished it. There was nothing else you could do but move on and make the best of what you had left.

Knowing that he owed John for covering for him yesterday, he'd agreed to talk over the details of the Giardella case with the new ADA, **Sylvia Costas**. Both he and John had been reluctant to meet the woman at the weekend, seeing as they'd worked the last seven days straight, but the woman had insisted that it would be the only time that would work for her.

Never one to let a broad call the shots, he'd almost told her to shove the case up her ass, yet he wanted Giardella badly. The guy was a snake, managing to wriggle out of every charge they'd brought him up on. Nothing stuck even though he was known by all to be one of the guys behind Marino's operations. With so many ties to the mob, Giardella never took the flak for anything.

Pulling himself from the bed and ignoring the scantily-dressed woman still passed out, he eyed the bottle of scotch lying on its side on the carpet. Maybe one drink before meeting the ADA wouldn't hurt…..

* * *

><p>"Here, take a break."<p>

John smiled his gratitude to his wife, taking a deep gulp of the beer she'd handed him. "Yes, ma'am."

It had been a long day, but one of the more enjoyable ones of the last few months. Both he and Lori had gotten a little carried away at the store, buying a crib and other pieces of furniture that they'd need for their impending arrival.

Having finally narrowed down which shade of yellow would work best, the two of them had headed back to the apartment like the proud soon-to-be-parents they were. The arguments, tension and resentments of the last few days had faded away as they found themselves swept up in the excitement of expecting their first child.

He'd forgone lunch in favour of putting the crib together before starting work on painting the walls. Lori had attempted to look interested in decorating the room but had spent most of the time flicking through the catalogues they'd picked up at the furniture store.

She'd already pointed out a number of items that she insisted they would need for the baby and, each time she circled one of the hideously expensive items, he found his mind drifting back to the offer Fancy had put on the table.

Babies were expensive. _Real _expensive. Would they be able to survive on one set of wages alone when the baby arrived? Even if Lori returned to work quickly, they'd still have to find the money for day care during the working week.

Maybe taking a desk job would give him more time with his child. The thought of raising a little John Jnr was an appealing prospect. There would be so many things he could show or teach his son but would he ever get the chance if he was working all the hours that God sent as a detective out on the streets?

A wet paintbrush to the face pulled him rudely from his thoughts as he found Lori giggling at him, paintbrush in one hand and the other covering her mouth as she attempted to stifle a giggle.

He couldn't help but grin back at her, but not before he'd caught her unaware and returned the favour, flicking yellow paint from his brush straight across her chest and face.

Lori looked amused and affronted at the same time. Saying nothing, she dipped her brush into the pot of paint before raising her arm in the direction of her husband. "Think that's funny, do you?"

He was too quick for her, ducking out of the way in time so that only the top of his head caught the splashes of paint. Keeping his head low, he crept over and grabbed her by the waist, gazing into her eyes as they both laughed. His face inched closer to hers, leaning in to kiss her only to find his lips meeting a wet paintbrush. Not one to admit defeat, John leaned close again, capturing her lips with his own, spreading paint between them as their hands dropped the paintbrushes and made desperate grabs for each other's clothes.

Forget the arguments and issues, this was how it should be for expecting parents – excitement, joy, passion. A child would be the perfect symbol of their love for each other and if things carried on as they had today, maybe there would be another couple of brothers or sisters for little John Jnr in the pipeline...

* * *

><p><em>Authors' Note: This is a continuing story from the writing team of WriterJasmine and Teeheehee1234. It's meant to be a fun attempt at writing a story together based on words that readers provide to us on a weekly basis. For more information about this, please read our profile and please feel free to participate. The 'bolded' words throughout the story are words that some of our reader friends sent our way this week. The words utilized are: <strong>magic; corner; management; birthday; potential; manipulate; distraught; antithesis; Sylvia Costas; divorce; consequences; baby's room; misty-eyed.<strong>_


	9. Chapter 9

SAILING INTO UNCHARTED WATERS

Chapter Nine

Her thoughts centered on the papers in front of her, Sylvia Costas absentmindedly picked up the mug of coffee sitting nearby and took a sip. An **involuntary **grimace appeared on her face and she sat the mug down. _Ugh… how did it get so cold so quickly?_

She glanced at her watch, surprised to see she'd been sitting at her desk for nearly forty minutes. It had always been that way, that ability to totally immerse herself in her work. Even so, she was irritated.

_Where the hell is he?_ she wondered.

Andy Spiowicz was supposed to have shown up half an hour ago. _What a jerk!_ The man had no consideration for anyone other than himself.

Of all the cops in the 15th precinct, he wasn't one of her **favorites**. She'd much rather deal with his partner. While Kelly could be sarcastic on occasion, he was also fair. He was hard working and professional, which was more than could be said for Sipowicz. Kelly had a **passion **for the job; the only thing Sipowicz had a passion for was booze and hookers – at least that was the gossip. If it was true, she wondered how much longer he'd last. The new lieutenant, Arthur Fancy, didn't seem one to suffer fools – or drunks – gladly.

Sighing, she got up from the desk and headed to the coffee pot in the corner of her small office. Just as she was about to pour water to make a fresh pot, she heard two brief taps on the door. Her expression impassive, she watched Sipowicz stick his head inside the doorway.

"Hey," he said, nodding at her.

"You're late," said Sylvia. "I've been waiting thirty minutes for you to show up."

He made a big deal out of looking at his watch. "Oh yeah? You got a hot date or something? You were the one who wanted to meet on a Sunday. Not enough time in the lady lawyer's busy weekly schedule to accommodate us poor slobs from the precinct."

She said nothing, determined not to get into another spitting match with the cop. She continued with making the coffee, watching him out of the corner of her eye. In spite of her dislike for Sipowicz, something was not right with him.

He clumsily weaved past her, his steps **faltering**, and sat down heavily in the chair across from her desk. _Yes, something was definitely off._

The hair around his balding crown was sticking up in different directions, giving him a slightly **wild** look. His tie was crooked, his shirt slightly wrinkled, and his sports coat had seen better days. More than anything, he looked tired and old. Certainly older than his years. _What was going on with him? Was the gossip about him true?_

Sylvia was a kindhearted person, although she took pains to cover up that aspect of her nature. When you spent your days prosecuting thugs and working with randy, foul-mouthed cops, you learned to play the game brisk and hard. She kept her vulnerabilities to herself and demanded only one thing of those she worked with: respect. And she generally got it, too. She knew she had a reputation for being a hard ass; well, so be it. It was a **misconception **she didn't bother to correct. In fact, she welcomed it. There was protection in having men think she was tough. They didn't play games with her.

Except for Sipowicz. From the start, he'd done nothing but push her buttons. Still, something about his skewed tie and his mussed hair touched her. Instead of his usual cocky impertinence, he appeared sad and confused. His earlier attempt to toss the rude remark now seemed **pathetic**. Instead of being angry, Sylvia felt a **twinge **of **compassion**. What had happened to the bantam rooster who had so annoyed her in the past?

In those few seconds, she found herself missing the man he once was. She hadn't realized how much his impudence had amused her – or challenged her. She liked a good fight.

_Where had his fighting spirit gone?_

"Would you like some coffee?" she asked, her voice kind.

He turned his head to look at her. "Got anything stronger?"

"You kidding me? This is an _office_, not a tavern."

"Yeah, and I bet you never break a rule, do you? You got a lot of **fortitude**, lady lawyer. Bet you always got straight A's in deportment. I'm surprised you're not in Sunday school this morning."

She sat the mug of coffee in front of him. "Shut up and take the coffee. You look like you could use it."

"Maybe I could, at that." He pushed two fingers beneath his collar, attempting to loosen it. Why had he felt a need to wear a tie this morning? It wasn't a weekday; he could have worn something more casual. He watched Sylvia as she sat down across from him and he realized suddenly why he hadn't. There was something about her… something pristine. Even on a weekend, she was dressed in a suit, looking as crisp and professional as she would have for a court date.

_Damned woman; she always unsettled him somehow. _It was for this as much as any other reason that he went out of his way to throw a few jabs her way. When he lobbed one at her, he felt it cut her down to size a little bit, made her less threatening. And she _was, _in her way, a threatening woman.

As she shuffled the paper on her desk, Andy let his eyes roam idly over her body. She wasn't a bad-looking broad – if you liked the type. She had the **tools** it took to be a real looker, if she'd use 'em: big brown eyes, all liquid and soft like. Nice legs. Not too bad on top either; maybe not as big as he usually liked 'em to be but serviceable. Who knew what goodies she was hiding under those tailored suits? He sure wouldn't mind taking a look.

_"__Ahem!"_

Like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar, he looked up quickly from her breasts. "Uh, did you say something?"

**Glowering** at him, Sylvia tapped her chin with a forefinger. "Yeah, I said my _face_ is up _here_."

He laughed, genuinely amused. He could see she was pissed. "Sorry."

"No, you're not, but I don't have time for your juvenile fantasies. Let's talk about Giardella."

For a moment he considered telling her what she could do about his juvenile fantasies, but then lost the heart for battle. Better to get this little visit over so he could get back to…

_To what? _That was just it… he had nothing to get back to…

Depressed and weary, he ran a hand over his balding head. "What do you got on him?" he asked.

"Not much, I'm afraid. He's pretty good at evading prosecution."

"That's where I come in," he said.

"That's where you come in," she agreed, her eyes serious. "He hates you, you know."

"Yeah, I know. Breaks my heart, it does. I was hoping he and I had could be best buddies, open a vein together, be blood brothers. God, I hate that little creep! I'd like to rip that cheap rug off his baldhead and shove it down his goddam throat!** Narcissistic** little son of a bitch!"

Sylvia tried not to smile but couldn't help herself.

"What's so funny?" he asked, suspicious of her sudden mirth. Was she enjoying a joke at his expense?

"I'm sorry… it's just, well, it's just I've heard him say the same of you."

"Yeah… well…" For a moment, Andy found himself disarmed by the warm amusement in her eyes and by the way the corners of her mouth lifted in a charming smile. She really was pretty when she didn't act like she had a stick up her ass. He struggled to concentrate on what she was saying, bemused by the direction his thoughts had taken.

"You know, Andy, it's **amazing** how he always manages to stay just one step ahead of you guys." She shook her head, annoyed that they couldn't find something more substantive, some that would cement the case against Giardella. "Look, if you want to put this guy away, you've got to do something, get me something I can use. The stuff you're giving me now? No judge is going to give him any real time… you've got to get me something solid to work with."

Andy could feel his blood starting to boil. _Who the hell did she think she was? _Did she think they were doing nothing? Christ! No one wanted Giardella more than he did! No one!

"Look, lady lawyer, maybe it's not what we're giving you. Maybe _you_ ain't got what it takes to convince a judge to put the guy behind bars. Ever think of that? Maybe it's YOU, sister!"

"Oh yeah?" Sylvia's own temper ignited. "Last time you brought him in, he claimed police harassment – and he wasn't far from wrong! That little **raid** you conducted at the strip joint, what the hell was the point of that? Like it's illegal to go to a strip club? I bet if that were the case, you'd be in jail!"

"Hey, you watch your mouth," he began, but was quickly interrupted by a furious Sylvia.

"No, you watch _yours_! What did you accomplish, huh? Quite a little **uproar** you caused that night! You hauled the dancers in on some trumped up charge of prostitution, kept them overnight, and you got absolutely nothing on Giardella. Nothing!"

Still angry, Andy couldn't help smiling at the memory. "Yeah, but it was great to catch him with his pants down… and that goddam rug of his hanging sideways off his head. It was worth it."

"It was harassment! And it got you nowhere. And it didn't help me any with this case."

He knew she was right. That raid against the club had been an impulsive move on his part. He'd had a few drinks that night and had gotten wind that Giardella was at the _Girls! Girls! Girls!_ strip club.

Had John been with him that night, he'd have talked Andy out of it. Lately, John had gotten good at talking his partner out of questionable shenanigans. God knows he gave the kid a lot of practice. But John had been home that night with his wife. He couldn't babysit Andy twenty-four / seven; he had a home.

_Someone to go home to…_

What did he have? A bottle? Maybe some bimbo to make him temporarily forget his life had turned to shit…

Some of what he was thinking must have shown on his face because Sylvia, once again, felt a grudging sympathy for the man sitting across from her. He looked defeated, and she wasn't sure why. It made her sad, though, and brought out something warm and empathetic within her.

"Tell you what, Officer Sipowicz, you get me something solid on Mr. Giardella, and I'll nail his ass to a tree – and that's a promise."

* * *

><p><em>One week later…<em>

_What's this? _wondered Laura, cleaning out the pockets of John's suit jacket, unfolding the wrinkled piece of paper she found there.

She had been rounding up their dry cleaning for the week. She always had to check John's suit pockets because he'd leave change, messages and all sorts of things inside them. Sometimes it frustrated her that he was so negligent in that regard, but at other times it made her smile. For all his strength and maturity, in some ways he was still much like a boy. She doubted whether she'd ever convince him to empty out his pockets each evening; too many times the contents of those pockets had made the trip to the dry cleaners.

She briefly scanned the paper in her hands. Then she sat down on the bed, hard.

_John was applying for a lieutenant's position!_

The job notice fell from her hands and for a moment she was dazed.

Why hadn't he said anything to her? He couldn't be afraid of not getting the job! No one was smarter, more capable than her Johnny! While she didn't like his work, she knew he was good at it – the best – and his colleagues respected him.

A desk job. The thought that he was actually considering it filled Laura with happiness. No more worrying about him on the streets, no more nightmares, no fears that she'd lose him… that her baby would grow up as Johnny had, maybe never knowing his father.

She started to reach for the phone, to call him, to share her happiness that he was doing this for her… for them.

Instead, she hesitated before picking up the receiver.

He hadn't told her. _Why?_

A surprise? Perhaps he was waiting for the promotion to go though. That made sense. He wouldn't want to get her hopes up before being sure he'd gotten the job.

_He didn't tell you because he wants it to be a surprise, you silly woman!_ Laura seized the thought, joy exploding inside her. It would be just like him to do the deed and then celebrate with her. Smiling, she lay back on the bed, closing her eyes in contentment.

Yes, it would be just like him. In the two months since he'd learned they were pregnant, he'd been increasingly gentle and protective of her. Initially, he'd been bouncing off the walls, telling everyone they came in contact with that he was going to have a kid.

That was the boy in Johnny. She understood that and most times enjoyed that exuberant side of him. She'd initially been uneasy about sharing the news with others, but he'd convinced her she'd been silly. He wanted her to let loose, enjoy the fact they were finally going to have the longed-for baby. And she had done just that! She put aside her fears, and started getting things ready for _his _appearance.

It would be a _him_. She just knew it! She knew it inside, felt it. She couldn't explain it, but she was certain it was a boy. As a result, all the **baby names **they considered were male. Johnny wanted to name the boy John, for himself and his father. She had no problem with that… it was the second name that concerned her.

_Andrew_.

John considered Andy a second father, and wanted to honor him as such.

Laura might have fought him on it, but decided not to; she could see John was concerned about Andy, and the two of them had already fought enough over the man. It was just a middle name; she'd accept it. John had been grateful she hadn't made an issue of it.

_You have to choose your battles_, she thought, now glad she hadn't said anything of his choice, especially in light of his decision to seek a desk job.

Of late, John had slowly settled down into a thoughtful, measured silence. She'd often look up from whatever she was doing and find his eyes on her, gentle and warm. When caught in the act, a sweet smile would cross his face.

The baby was changing both of them. John seemed deeper, more thoughtful about the future.

The changes in her were even more significant and were both physical and emotional.

She used to laugh at women who talked about 'the nesting instinct,' but since discovering she was pregnant, Laura felt a strong compulsion to start getting things ready for her little one. His room was already coming together. Painted a bright, cheery yellow, it made her smile every time she entered it. The cradle John's father had made those many years ago was sitting in the middle of the room; it would do until they found the crib they'd eventually purchase. Inside the cradle, Johnny's old teddy bear rested. He'd made a face at her sentimentality when he saw the bear in there, but she wanted it. When the baby came, she'd put it on a shelf, a reminder of the boy her husband used to be – and sometimes still was.

Seeing that room, feeling the love already in evidence there, her baby was even more real to her. Lately, it seemed her emotions were all over the place. Knowing she had a baby inside her changed her outlook on things.

Things like her career…

Until she'd become pregnant, she and Johnny had always assumed she'd go back to work once the baby was born. But now, confronted with the reality of sending her baby off to daycare, she found she didn't like the idea. She wasn't having a baby just so someone else could spend eight hours a day with him, seeing his first steps, hearing his first words. She wanted her baby to have her and John's values, not some stranger, no matter how kind or well meaning.

To her surprise, Johnny agreed with her. It would require some sacrifices on their part, but they were willing to make them. She was going to approach her boss about providing legal services from home – and only on a part-time basis. Yes, it would change their economic status, but they were both in agreement: a baby needed his mom, not the casual love of a stranger.

If Johnny got the lieutenant's job, it would help tremendously. It would mean an increase in salary and then Laura wouldn't feel so guilty about staying home with the baby.

Feeling much lighter, she almost drifted into sleep. The first **trimester** of her pregnancy had turned out to be more physically challenging than she'd expected. She was often tired, and the morning nausea was especially debilitating. When she'd discussed this with her doctor, she'd advised Laura that each woman was different and that she should take more naps and keep a supply of crackers on hand.

_Crackers. Ugh._

But they did seem to help first thing in the morning. Now if she could just get past the tiredness. The doctor assured her that with the **advancement** of the pregnancy, she'd learn to handle the weariness. She hoped so. She didn't like the feeling of listlessness that sometimes came over her.

Laying there, quietly thinking about all their plans, Laura felt a slight twinge in her pelvic region. It was gone almost before her mind registered the disquieting sensation.

She sat up slowly. _What was that?_

She waited a few minutes, trying to assess her feelings… but felt nothing unusual. Convinced it had been her imagination, she dismissed it from her mind and lay back down.

Her thoughts then wandered down several pathways, settling finally on an incident that had occurred at work the day before. Unbeknownst to her, Tina, had been worried about her paleness and had called Johnny to pick her up after work. The motherly assistant thought Laura had seemed overtired.

Any other time, Laura would have been annoyed at Tina's presumption, but not on this occasion. When Tina confessed, shamefaced, that she'd called Johnny and he was coming to get her, Laura had been relieved. She didn't feel like taking the subway that evening, standing in a press of strangers, dealing with the heat and smells.

Besides, something upsetting had occurred. Something that normally would have made Laura laugh, but, surprisingly, had hurt her.

Feeling slightly nauseous, she'd gone to the bathroom and was inside one of the stalls, recovering from a small bout of sickness. It was then she'd heard the voices of two of the firm's secretaries. The women had presumably entered the restroom to repair their makeup. Not realizing Laura was inside one of the stalls, they began talking – and Laura was surprised to learn she was the topic of their conversation.

_"So," said Peg, "what do you think about our Lady Madonna? She kills me. You'd think she was the first woman to ever have a baby!" Peg's caustic voice reverberated against the cold, tiled walls of the restroom._

_"She is a bit much, isn't she?" replied Mandy, giggling. "I'm so sick of hearing she and Tina go on and on about the baby's room, baby names, her work schedule, her morning sickness, and so and so on! You'd think she invented pregnancy! Good grief, I've had three kids and I'm willing to bet I never went on like that."_

_Peg laughed unkindly. "And she's only been pregnant for a couple of months. I've never liked the woman. She's a self-involved pain in the ass."_

_"Yeah, that's for sure… although her husband is awful cute, don't you think?" Mandy's voice suddenly turned wistful. "He's sure protective of her. Lately, he's been stopping by the office more frequently, taking her home after work. I can't say my Gary ever did that when I was pregnant…"_

_"Well, maybe you weren't the prima dona our own Lady Madonna is… "_

_Mandy hesitated, thinking things over. "To be fair, it was her husband who brought up the room and the baby names. I'd forgotten that… he's a very open sort of guy. I like how he always stops by and says hello to the secretaries. He's not a prig like her…"_

_"He might have brought it up, but I don't doubt that she's the one behind the mad rush to get everything accomplished. I'm sure in her mind this pregnancy rivals that of the Blessed Mother!"_

_Again, Mandy giggled. "You really don't like her, do you?"_

_"Not much," acknowledged Peg. "She could come up with a vaccine for cancer and I'd still dislike her."_

_"Why do you think that is?"_

_Peg made a dismissive sound. "I don't think too much about it. I just dislike her and that is never going to change."_

After the two women left the restroom, Laura came out of the stall and washed her hands. She was surprised to see she had tears in her eyes.

How ridiculous. She didn't like either woman; never had, in fact. But still… it hurt to hear herself spoken about in such manner. Worse, it wounded her to hear people speaking so unkindly about her baby and her excitement. How cruel!

John was waiting for her when she came out of the bathroom.

"Hey, beautiful, hear you need a ride home. Kelly's taxi service at your disposal!" he said cheerfully, kissing her cheek. As he pulled back, he noticed an odd look on her face. "Lori… what's wrong, honey?"

The story tumbled out before she could stop herself.

Angry on her behalf, John frowned. "Look, babe, for some people life is just a shit sandwich and I'd say that is true of those two old **cats**! Don't let 'em get to you. Screw 'em!" He tucked a wayward strand of hair behind her ear, and caressed her cheek. "Better now?"

She'd nodded. It really was. He always made things better.

Thinking about it now, she dismissed the unkind women from her mind. Some people were just petty and vindictive, and Laura had always been one to mind her own business and stay aloof from the firm's resident gossips. Perhaps that's why the women disliked her. Well, the hell with them. She had enough happy things to occupy her mind rather than making a **melodrama** out of remarks made by two people she didn't particularly like even in the best of times. She'd always had the ability to **distinguish** between what was important and what wasn't – and the remarks of those two had only hurt her because her emotions were fluctuating along with her hormones.

That would settle down. The doctor had said so.

For now, she'd happily contemplate John's new position…

* * *

><p>"Kelly, got a minute?" asked Lieutenant Fancy as John and Andy were heading out to get some lunch. The two cops were working the weekend shift, always a busy one and hadn't had time for a break until now. Still, John nodded at Fancy.<p>

"Sure, Lieutenant." He looked at his partner. "I'll meet you downstairs in a few minutes."

Andy looked surprised, but shrugged. "Sure…"

Inside Fancy's office, the lieutenant studied the younger man. "Well, John… did you give any consideration to that position we talked about last week? The window of opportunity is starting to close."

John looked uncomfortable. "I appreciate the opportunity, I really do… but I don't know… I'm not sure I'm ready to make the move right now. I'm thinking of taking a pass…"

To be continued.

* * *

><p><em>Authors' Note: This is a continuing story from the writing team of WriterJasmine and Teeheehee1234. It's meant to be a fun attempt at writing a story together based on words that readers provide to us on a weekly basis. For more information about this, please read our profile and please feel free to participate. The 'bolded' words throughout the story are words that some of our reader friends sent our way this week. The words utilized are: <strong>involuntary; favorites; passion; faltering; wild; misconception; pathetic; twinge; compassion; fortitude; tools; glowering; narcissistic; amazing; raid; uproar; baby names; trimester; advancement; cats; melodrama; <strong>and **distinguish.**_


	10. Chapter 10

SAILING INTO UNCHARTED WATERS

Chapter Ten

_"I'm thinking of taking a pass."_

Try as he might, Arthur Fancy couldn't keep the look of shock from his face.

"Kelly, can I be honest why you?"

Lieutenant Fancy had only transferred to the precinct a few months previous, but John respected the way the man had carried himself so far. Fancy could be a hard ass at times, yet he was also capable of showing great **compassion** to the men in his squad room, understanding that his detectives often saw the worst of humanity and were not jaded enough yet that they still felt **empathy **toward the victims of barbaric crimes.

John nodded his head, willing to hear his superior out. "Sure, lieutenant."

Fancy took a deep breath before speaking. "I think you're making a **mistake**."

_Ok, that hadn't exactly what he'd been expecting to hear….._

"Uh, come again, sir?"

Fancy looked him in the eye. "This is a major chance to advance your **career**. Opportunities like this don't come along every day, John."

He looked **dubious** at Fancy's statement, but the man deserved some kind of explanation at least. "I appreciate what you're saying, but maybe it isn't the right time for me to move up. I feel like I've got a lot more to offer as a cop out on the streets before I make a move upstairs."

"Is that what your wife thinks?"

The shock must have been written all over his face. Flying up from his seat quickly, John's temper began to get the better of him. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

It took a few moments for John's response to register in the lieutenant's mind. "You haven't discussed it with her have you?"

John's expression could only be described as **sheepish**. Fancy was right, he hadn't even discussed the promotion with Laura before deciding – more or less – that he would take a pass on the opportunity of applying for the position of lieutenant.

"Don't you think you're being a little** selfish**, Kelly? You've got a wife and a kid on the way, this isn't just about what you want any more."

Feeling his anger beginning to boil over, John had to work hard to keep his temper in check. "My marriage is none of your concern!"

Fancy continued to hold his gaze, not cowering to the Irish temper of the man before him. "It is if it affects your ability to do your job. Do you know how many men on the force I've seen slide into misery and depression, and all because they put the job above everything else? Too many, Kelly. Too many."

The air seemed to leave Fancy's body in a rush, making him appear **deflated**.

"With all due respect, _sir. _I don't need marriage guidance, and if I did, you'd be the last person I'd ask."

Fancy said nothing, continuing to stare at his young subordinate.

"Are we finished here?" John asked, his anger barely concealed beneath the surface.

"Just think about it, Kelly. What's the harm in at least applying for the position?"

"Andy's waiting for me, I need to go."

He didn't give the lieutenant a chance to answer before slamming the door shut behind him, livid that his superior felt as if he could tell him what to do.

* * *

><p>John would kill her when he found out, of that Laura had no doubt. As she sat on the hospital bed, she idly wondered if the message had gotten through to him at the precinct yet.<p>

He'd had to leave early this morning, working the dreaded weekend shift on the streets – a shift that was far more dangerous than those during the working week. Despite her unease at his leaving, Laura reminded herself that it was likely that the shifts would soon come to an end when his promotion was confirmed.

The anticipation of John revealing his good news was killing her. How many times had she wanted to just blurt it out and ask him if it had gone through yet?

_Because he wants it to be a surprise. He wants to tell you when it's all signed and settled._

It was yet another sign of John's youthfulness that he wanted to keep his news a surprise and reveal it when he felt the time was right. For all of his level-headedness, he could still be as excitable as a five year-old with a new toy. She loved him, would never purposely do anything to hurt him, and so she kept her mouth shut when it came to his promotion.

She'd seen a transformation in her husband over the past few months, and his **evolution** from brash and hot-headed young man into a thoughtful and composed adult had been a pleasure to watch. Although he was often still as randy as a pubescent boy, there was also a sense of calm within him, his love and devotion to her and their unborn child had tempered some of the impulsiveness that had often coloured his actions.

After another bout of morning sickness and an extra two hours in bed, the **solitude** within the apartment was beginning to get to her. Trying every trick she knew, Laura could no longer hold back on the craving for tuna fish that she'd been having recently.

She'd already made John leave the apartment late at night to get more cans from the deli at the end of the block more than once this week. He'd said nothing each time, kissing her on the forehead and stroking her belly before grabbing his jacket and keys with a promise to return with her bounty.

But John was at work and she'd already made her way through the last of the cans in the cupboard. Little John Jnr was hungry, and he was demanding tuna fish. John still had at least another six hours of his shift to go and it was unlikely that he'd be able to get away quick enough to feed her cravings in time.

There was nothing else for it, she would have to go get it herself. A quick glance at the shelves of the local store proved fruitless, John had probably bought the last of their stock the day before. That had left her with no choice but to catch a cab downtown and get some from one of the bigger grocery stores.

And that's where it had all gone wrong. Unwittingly, she had set off a chain of events that had landed her in the hospital. She only hoped that John wouldn't be furious with her when he found out.

* * *

><p>"Everything ok?" Andy asked, seeing his young partner make his way down the stairs with a face like thunder.<p>

He was rewarded with a scowl from John. "Peachy."

The sullen reaction immediately caused Andy concern. His partner was definitely the more agreeable **personality** out of the two of them, often talking both of them out of trouble that he himself had led them into.

"Well, you look like someone just crapped on your hat, kid."

And it was true. None of the detectives in the precinct would be **ecstatic** to find themselves called into the lieutenant's office, but John looked as though he'd rip the head off of the next unsuspecting perp to cross him.

He watched as John pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a weary sigh. "It's nothing for you to worry about, ok?"

It seemed like a strange thing for John to say. As much as they were partners and close friends, they weren't that close that they felt the need to tell each other everything. They both had enough respect for the other to know that they'd both say something if they felt the need to.

Still, the thought that John was hiding something made him feel uneasy. The man was going to be a father, he had a wife and they'd soon have a kid of their own that would need taking care of. John didn't need his old soak of a partner causing him even more hassle.

Andy felt a sense of **compunction** when he thought of all the crap he'd put John through in the last twelve months. John had put more time and effort into their failing partnership in one week than he himself had in the last six months. Despite the futility of the **investment** of his time and effort, the kid had continued to carry his partner's dead weight without saying a word, despite the frustration he knew John must feel at having to do all the heavy lifting in their relationship.

The meeting with the ADA a few weeks ago hadn't gone all that well, with Sylvia Costas treating him as if he were nothing more than an **abhorrence** to her. It had pricked at his pride at the time that she would look at him as if he were dirt on her shoe.

But then there had been times that she'd looked at him with something akin to sympathy, and it had been that which had caused him to lash out spitefully at her. He could deal with feisty broads all day long - enjoyed it, in fact - but he would not tolerate any woman looking at him with a sense of pity.

He might be a useless old drunk, but he still had a little pride that the booze hadn't managed to strip away and he was determined that he'd hold on to what he had left. He would take her barbed comments and looks of **repugnance**, but he would not let her treat him as if he were someone to be pitied. He would rather die than let a woman show him any sympathy for his own self-induced misery.

Maybe it was his own **clouded judgment** that made him so hesitant to make any more of John's current foul mood, suggesting the two of them go grab a bite to eat while they had the chance.

"Sounds like a plan," John grimaced, his gaze straying to the squad room upstairs. "I need to get some air anyway."

Andy shrugged his shoulders. Whatever was bothering John, it was clear that the man didn't want to talk about it. The kid would open up when he was good and ready to.

"You fancy dropping by Sal's?"

Even a blind man couldn't have missed the frown that crossed John's face. The kid was a smart, knowing that Sal's had a licence to serve liquor as well as food.

"I don't think that's a great idea, Andy. How about the diner on 42nd?"

Andy swallowed his annoyance, perhaps it was for the best if he tried to remain sober for the rest of the shift. It wasn't like Fancy to be in on a weekend, and the last thing he needed was any more crap from the lieutenant about his performance. Weekends had always been the time that he could sneak off for an hour or two, knowing that Fancy would be none the wiser come Monday morning.

He knew better than to push his luck, reminding himself that perhaps the lieutenant had already torn a strip off of John this morning. It seemed as good an explanation as any as to why his partner had a face like a slapped ass at the moment.

"Sure, why not," Andy shrugged, walking toward the exit with John alongside him.

The two men had almost made it to the door before a woman called out to them.

"Detective Kelly?"

John turned his attention in the direction of the voice, identifying its owner as Janice Lacalsi, the officer who'd dealt with a couple of minor incidents a few months back in the apartment block he shared with Lori.

"What's up, officer?"

Andy interjected before the woman had time to open her mouth. "Yeah, us suits need some brain food. Can we deal with your jay-walker when we've had something to eat?"

Officer Licalsi didn't even look at Andy, instead keeping her attention on his partner. She looked troubled, that much John knew for sure.

"Detective, we've just taken a call at the front desk…..it's about your wife."

* * *

><p>Laura looked at her watch for the fifth time in as many minutes, wondering why John hadn't arrived yet. Not that she was particularly looking forward to a scolding from him. He'd likely go mad when he found out what had happened.<p>

It should have been a simple trip downtown to get cans of tuna and then back to the apartment. It should have taken two hours tops, and John would have been none the wiser that his pregnant wife had braved the busy streets of downtown Queens on a Saturday afternoon.

After purchasing half a dozen cans, Laura had hailed a taxi cab, instructing the foreign-speaking driver to take her home. He'd rattled some long-winded reply to her, nodding his head furiously, a sign she took to mean that he understood her.

Less than two minutes into the journey, she began to feel as if getting in the back of this particular cab had been a huge mistake. The driver weaved the vehicle through the heavy **traffic **as if he were driving a tank, ignoring the horns and aggressive hand gestures of the other drivers he'd just pulled out in front of.

She'd been about to ask the driver to pull over when the car jerked sharply toward the curb. It took a moment for the realisation to set in that the cab had been side-swiped by a SUV - luckily on the opposite side of where she sat.

Still in a state of shock, she gawped at the driver as he turned in his seat and gave her a toothy, if rather nervous smile. He'd garbled something at her, yet her stunned mind only picked up on the phrase '**fender-bender'. **

_Fender-bender, my ass!_ she thought, her body still registering the waves of impact, feeling a twinge in her abdomen for the briefest of moments. She thought little else of the momentary feeling of discomfort, glad for the fact that she'd not suffered a** concussion** from the heavy collision she'd been involved in.

The door opposite her was too badly damaged for her to open, and people were crowding around her own as onlookers jostled each other for the best view of the action. Minutes later and the cops and fire service arrived. Despite her protests, the paramedics insisted she be taken to the local ER to be checked out.

She'd spent the last forty minutes being subjected to all manner of tests, growing increasingly frustrated at the prodding and poking. Now that the shock had worn off, her body was beginning to feel the effects of the collision. Everything ached, tiredness worming its way through her body quickly. All she wanted was for Johnny to pick her up and take her home….

Closing her eyes for a moment, she imagined the lecture her husband would give her about going out in her 'condition'. At any other time, his coddling would irritate her, yet she would gladly subject herself to his gentle chastisement if it meant that he'd take her home and look after her….

She opened her eyes, hearing someone pull the curtain back.

"Lori, what the hell happened?"

* * *

><p><em>Authors' Note: This is a continuing story from the writing team of WriterJasmine and Teeheehee1234. It's meant to be a fun attempt at writing a story together based on words that readers provide to us on a weekly basis. For more information about this, please read our profile and please feel free to participate. The 'bolded' words throughout the story are words that some of our reader friends sent our way this week. The words utilized are: <strong>concussion; fender-bender; traffic; clouded judgment; repugnance; abhorrence; investment; compunction; personality; solitude; evolution; deflated; selfish; sheepish; dubious; career; mistake; empathy; compassion<strong>**; ecstatic.  
><strong>_


	11. Chapter 11

SAILING INTO UNCHARTED WATERS

Chapter Eleven

"Lori, what the hell happened?" John asked, pushing aside the curtain in the temporary 'room' in the ER.

Laura looked into the worried face of her husband and bit her lower lip.

"Honey, are you okay?" He leaned down, quickly kissed her mouth and then looked at her intently. "Talk to me, Lori."

She blushed and refused to meet his eyes. "It was the tuna fish."

**Mystified**, John stared at her. "Tuna fish? Sweetheart, what are you talking about?"

She sighed deeply, preparing herself for the **fallout **even though she didn't see how a simple trip to the grocery store put her in the wrong. "I was hungry and we were out of tuna fish," she said simply.

He continued to look at her. "Am I missing something? You were in a car accident because you were hungry? Lori, the apartment is full of food."

"Yes, but there was no _tuna fish._ I wanted tuna fish. I _needed _tuna fish. You know how I get now, John."

Seeing his face begin to redden, she went on to explain. "I was smart, though. I knew taking the bus or even the subway wasn't a good idea… so I called a cab. How was I supposed to know the cabby was a frustrated race car driver?"

John pulled up a chair and sat down in it. "Christ, Lori… _tuna fish_?" He wanted to say more, much more, but he held his tongue. "How do you feel? Are you okay?"

She nodded. "But I want to go home, Johnny. The doctor says everything is fine, but I'm really tired. I just want to go home, change into something comfortable and get in bed." She caressed the side of his face and smiled sweetly. "I want to be held… **pampered**. Can we go home now?"

He let his anger and worry go and turned his face into the palm of her hand, kissing it. "Yeah, we can go – soon as the doc gives the okay, we'll leave."

"Good," she said, satisfied all was well. "And, Johnny…"

He looked at her.

"Can we stop for some tuna fish on the way?"

* * *

><p>Andy was going through Sylvia Costas's file on that rug-wearing creep, Giardella, his scowl deepening with each page he read.<p>

The squad room was quiet. Most of his fellow detectives had left for home or for a quick bite before starting the evening shift. It was the quiet before the storm – the room would soon be humming with activity as New York crazies began showing up, alone or accompanied by cops.

At their last meeting, Andy had promised Costas that he would take a look at the file and see if there was anything new he could add. So far, there was nothing and it frustrated Andy to see how flimsy the case against Giardella was.

_How does this son of a bitch stay out of jail? _he wondered. But he knew the answer – it was the creepy but effective lawyer on Angelo Marino's payroll. Andy had to hand it to Marino, that sleaze bag Giardella answered to; Marino knew how to hire good counsel.

Alphonse Giardella was a cheap thug and a **self-absorbed** little prick. He didn't care who he hurt or how much. They'd come so close to convicting him several times over the past five years, but each time the fat bastard walked. Their best opportunity for putting him away occurred two summers ago. Andy was certain Giardella had been the instigator in the **gunfight **that broke out between two warring crime families in an Italian restaurant, but there was no real proof and Giardella had an alibi that stood up in court. The guy was like Teflon – nothing stuck to him. His smooth and powerful attorney made sure of that – and so did Marino, a hood who had connections.

Well, Angelo Marino might be virtually untouchable, but Andy knew Giardella was not. He was going to get that **contemptible **son of a bitch one way or the other.

He yawned and looked at his watch. It was almost seven p.m. He wondered how things were going with John and Lori. The kid had sounded relieved when he'd called Andy to tell him Lori and the baby were okay, and that he was taking the rest of the day to be with Lori.

_Women_, he thought. _Damned crazy creatures. Drive a man nuts if you let 'em_.

His thoughts drifted to Katie.

In the beginning, he and his ex-wife had shared some good years. That was before she began harping about the job, how he couldn't leave it at work, how he was always bringing it home to her and Andy, Jr. Got to the point he couldn't stand to go home and see the sour look on her face.

_Christ!_ If she saw the things he saw every day, she'd find it difficult to leave it back in the squad room, too. Did she think he was a freaking machine, able to turn it on and off? The endless fighting about work, the accusations that it was changing him, making him coarse and mean, became too much. He left while they could still be friends.

_Friends_. He laughed silently. Some friendship, her glaring daggers at him every time he dropped off the alimony check. Still, the **divorce **allowed them the space to be civil with one another. In the end, it was all they had left. Civility.

He could see the same thing was happening with John, but he kept his trap shut about it. It was up to the kid to work things out. As much as Andy disliked Lori, he hoped John _did_ work it out.

There was something different about John; he wasn't like the rest of them. He wasn't cynical – not yet. He wanted the things Andy had tossed away: the good marriage, kids, the decent family life.

Andy didn't want to see John ending up alone, looking for affection from empty-eyed whores and sharing his evenings with a bottle of whiskey.

No, he didn't want that for him, but he kept his mouth shut. **Interfering **in another cop's personal affairs was against his code, even if that cop was like a son to him.

John had to find his own way. Maybe it would be different with him. Maybe he _could _have it all – the job, the family.

A feeling of** hopelessness **surged through Andy as he considered all he had given up. He'd like a steady life again, not with Katie… no, that ship had sailed. But maybe with someone… someone he could come home to who wouldn't harangue him about the job, someone who'd take his mind off all the ugly stuff he saw every day.

That's what the drinking was really about – all the crap he experienced, his increasing inability to leave it behind at the end of the shift. _And the goddam loneliness_. It had all started with just a drink or two after work, a way of smoothing out the end of his day. After a while, though, it became more than one or two drinks – and no longer confined to the hours after work.

"See you're going through that file, huh?"

Andy looked up to see Sylvia Costas, smooth and elegant, standing in front of his desk and pointing down at the file.

"Yeah," he replied, sitting up and straightening his tie. "While it's quiet around here, I thought I'd take a look and see if you missed anything."

She grinned. "If _I _missed anything? Officer, I work with what you give me. You give me garbage, you get garbage. How about giving me something useful next time?"

_I'd like to give you something useful, sister,_ he thought, annoyed.

But not _too_ terribly annoyed. There was something about Costas that he liked in spite of her prissy ways. Part of it was the way her legs looked in that skirt… the other part was her mouth. She acted like butter wouldn't melt in it – until you got her goat. Then she said what the hell she liked and she didn't mince words.

He liked a woman that gave as good as she got – even if it sometimes pissed him off.

"So, have you eaten?" she asked, surprising him. "Maybe we could get a hamburger and go over the file. What do you say?"

Part of Andy liked the idea. A lot. But another part of him was a little scared of Sylvia. Why that was the case, he wasn't sure. He didn't like being frightened of a woman.

"Sorry, _Esteemed Counsel_, no can do… my dance card is all full up this evening."

She frowned. "I'm not asking you out for a date, Andy. I thought we could discuss the case."

"Yeah, right."

"You've got a mighty high opinion of your own **self-worth**, don't you, mister? Well, here's a newsflash: you're not all that special." She turned on her heel and headed for the door.

"What a jackass," he heard her mutter as she left.

_Jackass_.

Try as he might, he couldn't disagree.

* * *

><p>John sat in the living room, a cold beer in his hand, and his eyes fixed unseeingly on the TV screen in front of him. His thoughts were far from the game he was watching and the Mets' chances for the playoff season.<p>

The day had been a bitch, and he was feeling unsettled. The fear he'd felt when he got the call from the hospital had taken a lot out of him. Lori was now sleeping peacefully in the other room, no worse for wear.

The same couldn't be said for him. He was still shaken.

And from more than Lori's accident.

The exchange he'd had with Art Fancy earlier in the day continued to bother him. The fright he'd experienced on learning of Lori's accident had taken much of the heat from his anger, convincing him that Fancy's remarks were not important in the bigger scheme of things.

At the time, though, he'd been so incensed he'd considered going over Fancy's head and writing to his superior, telling him that Fancy's interference in his men's personal affairs was unprofessional, contributing nothing to the morale of the office. He'd silently composed a bitter **diatribe** about Fancy's shortcomings and might have put it to paper if Lori's accident hadn't taken front and center in his mind.

_Imagine the __**consequences**__ that little effort in self-indulgence would have cost you, Kelly_, he thought wryly. _You'd have gotten a reputation for being a crybaby and for disloyalty to a commanding officer. And for what?_

To salve a guilty conscience.

John finished his beer and set it aside.

He knew what this was about.

_Guilt_.

He felt guilty he hadn't talked to Lori about the open position. They were a team. Wasn't that what he was always telling her? He was the one who was always trying to get Lori to open up and discuss things, and here he was, holding out on her on something this important.

But he knew why he hadn't yet talked to her. She would have pushed him to take the job.

And he didn't want it.

That was what was at the heart of his anger with Fancy. He knew the man was right, but that didn't make John like it any better.

As a husband with a baby on the way, he should have at least discussed the matter with Lori, helped her understand why he wasn't yet ready to leave the streets.

But what was the point? He knew he'd never make her understand how satisfying it was to him to deal one-on-one with the punks out there. Every time he brought one of the bad guys in, he felt like he was scoring one for his old man.

_His old man._

Is that what this was all about? Trying to make things right because some creeps gunned down his father?

A chill went through him as he recalled the **grief** he'd felt when his dad's partner came to the door with the news. Is that the sort of **heartache** he wanted to put Lori through? Or his kid?

John stood up and reached for the **empty** beer can. On his way to the kitchen, he tried to convince himself that his not telling Lori about the position hadn't been done with **premeditation**. He'd meant to tell her – when the time was right.

_But would the time ever be right?_

Honesty forced him to admit he'd held his silence in hopes that the whole thing might go away. Tossing the can into the trash, he was headed to the shower when he heard Lori's soft voice call out to him.

"Hey, honey," he said, coming to sit by her. "How are you feeling?"

"Lonely," she said, smiling.

He stretched out on the bed next to her, gathering her close. "Better?"

"Lots."

For several moments, the two lay quietly, each lost in their own thoughts. John's troubled heart quieted as he breathed in the fresh scent of her hair and neck.

"That tickles," she said, moving slightly away and grinning up at him.

"Does this tickle?" he asked, kissing her deeply, his hands beginning to roam in her soft, thick hair.

"That's enough, officer," she laughed, breaking the kiss after a few intense seconds. "Your wife is still kind of tired… and hungry."

"Oh, Lord," groaned John. "Not the tuna fish again!"

"Ice cream would be nice. There's some strawberry in the 'fridge."

John sat up. "Woman, you are going to get as big as a house if you keep these cravings up."

"What can I say? No point in arguing with Mother Nature. I've got a hungry kid in here," she said, pointing toward her stomach.

Grinning, John leaned forward and placed a quick kiss there. "Okay, one bowl of ice cream coming up."

"Thank you, kind sir, for being **gracious** to the mother of your child," she teased.

She watched him leave the room and stretched out against the soft pillows. _I could get used to this_, she thought, _ice cream in bed at night_. She started to giggle, but stopped when she felt an odd sensation near her pelvis. Before she could consider what she was feeling, a sharp pain followed, leaving her gasping in surprise.

_What? What was happening?_

The pain abated, leaving Laura frightened and clammy. She touched lightly and protectively the region where she was sure her baby lay. Quietly, she hardly dared to breathe, hoping she'd feel nothing further...

Again, another pain! Laura began to cry.

"Johnny, Johnny, come quick," she called.

**Unaware** of his wife's **distress**, John answered nonchalantly, "Hold your horses, Missy, I'm getting the ice cream as quick as I can."

He was smiling, amused by Lori's cravings, when he heard a small scream. The bowl of ice cream dropped from his hands, crashing to the floor.

"Lori!" he cried, running to the bedroom.

He took a deep, frightened breath when he saw her. Pale with fear, her face was streaked with tears.

"Honey, what is it?" he asked, his heart beating rapidly.

She pulled two fingers from beneath the bedspread and held them up. They were covered in blood.

"I need to go to the hospital," she sobbed.

* * *

><p>"Hey kid, how's it going?" asked Andy quietly, sliding into the chair next to John's in the waiting room.<p>

John shook his head, unable to speak for a moment.

"Any word yet on Lori or the baby?"

Again John shook his head. "Thanks for coming, Andy… I, um… I didn't want to wait alone."

Andy nodded. Briefly, he patted John's knee, and then leaned back in the chair to wait with him. "You want to talk about it?"

"I don't know what happened. She seemed okay, you know? One minute, we were laughing, joking… she asked for ice cream… then she started crying. God… the ride over here! It was a nightmare." He ran a shaky hand through his hair and then leaned his head back against the wall. "Christ, she was in so much pain, blood on her legs, tears. She kept begging me not to let her lose the baby."

He quickly stood up and began to walk around the room.

"Come on, John, sit back down." Andy watched his friend, a troubled expression on his face.

John stopped pacing and looked at Andy. "Maybe it was the taxi ride. She was shook up from the accident. The docs said she was okay! They let her go home, for God's sake! If anything had been wrong, why would they have let her go home?"

"John, sit down. You're all worked up. That won't be any good for Lori. Take a deep breath and try to calm down."

John realized Andy was right and tried to get hold of himself. He sat down and began to take deep breaths. "This is my fault."

"Oh, for crissakes, John," replied Andy, irritably. "You don't yet know that anything is wrong. The baby might be fine. Besides, how do you figure this is your fault?"

John didn't say anything. He didn't know how to put it into words.

On the surface, he knew Andy was right, but something inside him told him differently. Maybe it _wasn't_ the taxi ride that was the cause of Lori's being here.

Maybe the worries she had about his working the streets had caught up with her. What if he'd told her about the job opening? She would have felt relief… happiness…

_Would it have made a difference?_

Lori's doctor, her face tired and sad, walked into the waiting room and John quickly stood up. She reached for his hand and looked deeply into his eyes. "John, I'm sorry," she said softly.

"The baby…" he began.

"It was a spontaneous abortion, John. There was nothing anyone could do."

"Lori?"

"She's fine," the doctor quickly assured him. "She's okay, but she needs you."

John nodded, but looked lost. He slowly sat back down. Andy gripped his forearm. "Hang on, kid. It's gonna be okay."

John looked at the doctor. "Lori was here earlier… an accident."

The doctor sat on the other side of him, and again reached for his hand. "John, I read the chart. Lori checked out fine after the accident. There was no reason to keep her. These things, well, they happen sometimes with first pregnancies. Something was wrong, something we couldn't see… it's nature's way of taking care of things… the body aborts the fetus."

"Not _fetus_!" John said roughly, pulling his hand from hers. "_Baby_, it was our _baby_!"

"You're right, you're right," she said soothingly. "I'm sorry, John. Forgive me. It's the clinician in me… sometimes it makes me sound cold. I don't mean to be, okay?"

"Okay." He sighed. "We waited so long… tried so hard…"

Andy swallowed painfully. Listening to the kid was like having someone physically wring his heart. The anguish in John's voice was difficult to bear, and he didn't know what to say and so he kept squeezing his arm, hoping to give him some support.

The doctor continued. "I know, and that's why you need to go in and see Lori now. She's feeling all the things you're feeling – and to that you can add a healthy dose of guilt."

That startled him. "Guilt? She has nothing to feel guilty about."

"No," agreed the doctor. "She doesn't, and neither do you. But that doesn't really mean anything to you right now, does it? The heart feels what it feels. Listen to me, John: you both are going to have to be very good to each other. Very patient. And take heart. I know you and Lori had a hard time getting pregnant, but it's often the case that second pregnancies occur much faster. Give yourselves some time to grieve, and then try again. There's nothing to prevent you from having a healthy baby the next time."

John took a deep breath and nodded.

"Are you okay? Ready to see your wife now?"

"Yeah, I'm ready – as ready as I'm ever gonna be." He stood up and bit his lip, wondering what he was going to say to his wife.

* * *

><p>She looked so small to him, so fragile and pale, lying there in the dim yellow light of the hospital room. He approached quietly, sliding into the chair near the bed. Lori appeared to be sleeping. After all she'd been through he hated the idea of disturbing her. He reached for her hand, gently taking it in his. Her eyes opened at his touch and she looked at him.<p>

"No baby," she said softly. "I lost him, Johnny… I'm so sorry. I'm so very sorry."

There were tears in her eyes, and John felt his own eyes begin to water.

"Not your fault, not your fault," he said brokenly, holding her hand to his lips.

"Sure feels like it," she said sadly.

He dropped his head next to hers, and drew a shuddering breath.

"We'll try again." John's voice was shaky, and he wasn't sure what he was saying. He felt he was babbling, but he needed to say something, anything, to comfort her… to comfort himself. _Why did it hurt so much?_

"The doc says, the doc, well, she said there's nothing to prevent us from having a healthy baby next time, honey…"

She placed a finger against his lips. "Not now, Johnny. I can't talk about that now."

John found a tissue, wiped her eyes and then his own. "Okay, sweetheart, okay…"

The two were quiet then, each lost in painful thoughts of what might have been.

_To be continued._

* * *

><p><em><span>Authors' Note<span>: This is a continuing story from the writing team of WriterJasmine and Teeheehee1234. It's meant to be a fun attempt at writing a story together based on words that readers provide to us on a weekly basis. For more information about this, please read our profile and please feel free to participate. The 'bolded' words throughout the story are words that some of our reader friends sent our way this week. The words utilized are: **mystified; fallout; pampered; self-absorbed; gunfight; contemptible; divorce; interfering; hopelessness; self-worth; diatribe; consequences; grief; heartache; empty; premeditation; gracious; unaware; **and** distress**._


	12. Chapter 12

SAILING INTO UNCHARTED WATERS

Chapter Twelve

Sitting on the couch and nursing a glass of whiskey, John looked at the clock on the wall, not even caring that it was the middle of the night.

He'd brought Lori home a few hours ago, holding her as she lay in their bed, sobbing for the loss of their unborn child.

He'd been unable to do anything but hold her as they both wept, feeling anger and despair at how cruel and **unfair** life could be in its twists and turns. Their baby's **survival **had been left up to fate, and the harsh mistress had decided to show them no mercy.

He knew that there was no **guarantee** that things would run smoothly during the pregnancy. They'd been trying for a baby long enough to know that the chances of a miscarriage in the first trimester were much higher than those in the second and third stages of pregnancy.

How agonising it was to know that they'd been mere days away from the end of those first three months; would those days have been the difference between life and death for their unborn child?

He shook his head, downing the contents of the glass in one go, hoping that the alcohol would numb him enough to allow him to get some sleep. As **shattered** as he felt, every time he closed his eyes he saw Lori's face as he walked into her hospital room, hearing her wailing sobs as the doctor confirmed that the removal of their dead child from her womb was complete.

A part of him idly wondered what would happen to their child. Not old enough yet to be considered a life, would the hospital dispose of the foetus with the rest of the biological waste that they dealt with on a daily basis?

The mere thought of it made him feel** hateful**, but at what he wasn't sure. Would blaming someone or something make him feel any less devastated than he did right now?

Andy had tried his best to comfort him, even waiting outside the hospital room with him while the 'procedure' to remove the placenta from Lori's body had taken place. As much as he'd appreciated Andy being there, the words of comfort that the older man spoke seemed **forced**, as did his own response to them.

The situation that they'd found themselves in seemed **unfamiliar** to both; he had usually been the one to offer support to Andy, not the other way round. As awkward and stilted as their conversation had been during those long hours in the waiting room, John couldn't **dispute** the fact that he'd been glad to have his partner there with him.

Lori had said nothing on the drive home as she stared out of the windscreen, her eyes not focusing on anything. There was nothing he could have said to lessen the pain that they both felt, and so he kept his eyes on the road, blinking furiously as tears welled and his heart broke all over again.

He'd guided Lori to their apartment and straight to their bedroom. She seemed unable to move or function without being prompted, looking for all the world like a shell-shocked solider. He'd undressed her gently, his anguish rising once more when he removed the hospital bracelet from her wrist.

Guiding her to the mattress, John tucked Lori in as if she were nothing more than a child.

_Our child!_

He'd had to force his fist into his mouth to keep from crying out. Lori needed him to be strong for her; she needed to know that this wasn't her fault, that there was nothing she could have done differently.

_But what about you?_

He'd dismissed the thought quickly, pushing it to the back of his mind as he commanded himself to concentrate on Lori. It seemed like hours before she responded to his touch, he'd held her tightly against his own body, hoping to protect her as much as he could.

Perhaps it had been self-**preservation** that had caused her to all but shut down on him. He'd rubbed soothing circles over her body as he held her close, until her broken voice startled him from his own anguished thoughts.

"He's gone."

John bit down hard on his bottom lip, determined that he would stay strong for Lori. While he could control his mouth, he was powerless to stop the tears from rolling down his face.

"I know, honey. It's ok."

He was lying: it was the complete **opposite**. Nothing about these last few hours had been ok. Their baby was gone; their lives had been shattered. How could anything ever be ok again?

"They took him from us. It hurts so much, Johnny."

He hadn't been sure what she'd been referring to, whether Lori meant the hospital procedures or the fact that fate had been so cruel to them.

"It'll get better, I promise you."

Another lie, but there was a perverse sort of **attraction** in deceiving oneself. The pain John felt in his heart was unlike any physical pain he'd ever known, telling himself bare-faced lies eased that pain just a fraction.

"It hurts."

He could do nothing but hold his distraught wife as she sobbed uncontrollably for the loss of their baby, the baby that they'd tried so hard and waited so long for.

Maybe he'd been naïve in thinking Lori's sobs would soon die down, but the longer he'd held her, the more concerned he became that she wasn't dealing with the miscarriage at all. A part of him feared that she'd need **counseling** to get through the trauma of losing their unborn child.

It was a thought that shocked him. Lori was as tough as they came and more than a match for any **sanctimonious** prick that she came across in her career as an attorney. Lori loved the thrill of the fight when it came to a legal battle, never showing fear or vulnerability to anyone.

Lori was vibrant and strong, yet the loss of the baby had reduced her to nothing more than a broken shell of the woman she'd once been. It had been her feistiness, as well as a well-aimed shot from **Cupid's** arrow, that had drawn this difficult and complicated woman to him. Now she was nothing more than a pale imitation of the Laura that had captured his heart so completely.

Perhaps it had been selfish of him, but he'd been glad when exhaustion and the trauma of the day had finally overcome Lori and she'd fallen asleep in his arms. He watched her for a while, noticing the frown that marred her beautiful face until he could no longer deny his own pain and suffering.

Gently disengaging from her, he'd made his way to the kitchen and poured himself a large measure of whiskey, wincing as it burned the back of his throat. The alcohol had the desired effect of bringing him back down to **earth** as he felt himself choke up once more.

This is how it would have to be. Lori couldn't see the toll this was taking on him too. It was his job as her husband to support her and give her everything she needed. His own needs were secondary to hers; he would do whatever it took to help her overcome this.

Still, he was only human and even though he was a man, he needed to grieve just as much as she did. He would grieve in private, hiding the tears that he didn't want his wife to see. When she was asleep or not at home, those would be the times when he would allow his own tears to fall.

His eyes fell on the leaflets the hospital had given them upon Lori's discharge from their care. A nurse had tried to hand them to Lori, but she'd turned away, refusing to look at the woman. Knowing that his wife was in no state to accept anything from the hospital staff, John took them, shoving them sightlessly into the inside pocket of his jacket.

The whiskey had caused some of the words to blur, but the bold letters on the leaflet were clear in their meaning:

_Miscarriage and what it means._

_Successful pregnancy following a miscarriage._

_Grieving for the loss of an unborn child._

Picking up the first leaflet, he read its contents, even though each word caused pain to lance through his broken heart.

_Remember that the miscarriage was NOT your fault. There are many reasons why a miscarriage may occur, but it is often because there was an abnormality that caused the body to spontaneously abort the foetus._

_During an incomplete miscarriage, removal of the placenta from the body after the foetus has been expelled is necessary in order to prevent infection and further complications. It may take up to two weeks for the body and its hormone levels to return to normal and therefore symptoms of pregnancy may still be apparent._

_You will notice a gradual __**reduction**__ in the size of your abdomen, due to the body returning to its normal – _

John slammed his eyes shut, unable to read any further. Screwing the flimsy leaflet into a ball, he hurled it across the room, growling beneath his breath at the unfairness of it all.

Pulling himself to his feet, he'd been ready to pour himself another drink when a soft, melodic tune stopped him in his tracks.

_Little boy blue, come blow your horn,  
>The sheep's in the meadow, the cows in the corn<br>Where is the boy who looks after the sheep?  
>He's under the haystack, fast asleep<em>

Walking toward the sound, he found Lori standing in the spare room – the room that they'd begun decorating for their child. The child that would no longer sleep in the crib his grandfather had made.

"Honey, are you ok?" John asked, rubbing a tired hand over his face.

"I had a dream, Johnny," she replied, a wistful smile on her face. "He had your eyes….and your hair."

Taking his wife in his arms, he kissed the top of her head, holding her tightly. "Go back to bed, it'll be ok."

He felt her shake her head against his chest. "I had a dream….I gave birth to a beautiful baby boy….he was ours, Johnny. He was our little boy and we took care of him….we raised him….he was our son."

"I know, babe. I know."

Despite his efforts to guide her away from the room, Lori refused to move from her position beside the empty crib. The crib that would never cradle their newborn son.

"He had your dimples, too."

He could hear her sniff back the tears as her body shuddered.

"You'd come home from a shift and go straight to the nursery to kiss him….then you'd sing him a **lullaby**. He loved your voice, Johnny."

Each word she spoke drove another dagger of pain through him, until he couldn't bear to hear her say another word about the child that they would never know.

Rubbing circles on her back, he attempted to soothe his wife's broken spirit. "It was just a dream, Lori. The baby's gone...it's not real."

He tried so hard to soften the blow that his words would have on her, but she was either not capable or willing to listen to what he said.

"It was real to me!" she shouted, breaking free of his grip, displaying the first real signs of emotion since they'd lost the baby. "It's not fair, Johnny! I still feel pregnant. How can I feel pregnant when our baby is dead?"

"It'll pass – "

"I don't want it to pass, I want our baby!"

"We'll try again – "

"I don't want to try again, I want him!"

His eyes followed Lori's to the empty crib and the teddy bear sitting in the middle of it.

"Honey, we've got to accept that he's gone."

"I don't want to," she replied, her voice shaking.

"Neither do I, but we have to."

Suddenly and without warning, a look of anger crossed Lori's face as she struck out at her husband. "It's not fair!" she screamed, hitting whatever part of his body she could find.

He could do nothing but let her anger run its course, knowing that doing so would enable her to grieve and eventually move on. His body absorbed the blows as they steadily grew weaker, until she'd run out of energy.

Pulling her close to his own body, John kissed the top of her head before leading her from the room and back to their bed, closing the door to the nursery behind him.

The room that had once held all of their hopes and dreams was now nothing more than a painful reminder of everything they had lost.

_To be continued._

* * *

><p><em><span>Authors' Note<span>: This is a continuing story from the writing team of WriterJasmine and Teeheehee1234. It's meant to be a fun attempt at writing a story together based on words that readers provide to us on a weekly basis. For more information about this, please read our profile and please feel free to participate. The 'bolded' words throughout the story are words that some of our reader friends sent our way this week. The words utilized are: **guarantee; unfamiliar; dispute; preservation; sanctimonious; attraction; opposite; forced; shattered; hateful; unfair; survival; counseling; reduction; earth; cupid; wistful; lullaby.  
><strong>_


	13. Chapter 13

**SAILING INTO UNCHARTED WATERS**

Chapter Thirteen

Lori finished ironing the collar of her blouse. Turning off the iron, she felt John's arms encircle her, pulling her close to his chest. The warmth of his mouth as it pressed against the side of her throat made her sad.

Since the loss of the baby, everything made her sad. Her world was a palette of muted grays and browns. She had **zero **interest in anything, including John. Something had to give, she knew it, but lost in grief, she wasn't sure what it was.

Johnny continued to press feather-light kisses against her throat. "Lori, are you sure it's not too soon?" he murmured.

She moved away, slipped on her blouse and began buttoning it. Throwing him a guarded look, she frowned. "You're kidding, right?"

"I'm not."

She sighed, irritated. "We've had this discussion all weekend. I'm going back to work and that's all there is to it."

"I'm not sure you're ready," he began, his voice **soothing**. "It's only been a week. You're waking up in the middle of the night, unable to sleep, and your moods… well, your moods are…" He stopped, realizing he'd just said the wrong thing.

"My moods are _what_?"

"Nothing," he said, turning away. The last thing he wanted was a fight first thing in the morning.

"No, you started it," she insisted, stepping in front of him. "Go ahead – finish what you were about to say. 'My moods' are what?"

He looked at her face. She was spoiling for a confrontation; he could see it in the way her eyes darkened and her brows drew together.

For the past week, Laura's emotions had run the gamut from sadness and tears to unprovoked anger. The hospital had given them a pamphlet which had warned them about the moods each of them might experience. Losing the baby was not just physical; it was emotional.

John dealt with the grief by keeping it inward, refusing to examine it too closely. He was waiting it out, knowing that as time passed, things would get better.

Not Laura. Maybe it was the hormones; maybe it was just her emotional makeup. Either way, her grief had crystalized into anger. Unable to find a reasonable outlet for it, she snapped at anything, especially him.

He understood it, but it didn't make it easier to live with.

After five years together, they knew each other well: the soft spots, those tender, vulnerable areas susceptible to hurt. Lori's **nasty** remarks unerringly hit their target. He wasn't always successful at holding his temper in check when she scored a bulls-eye. He'd strike back, they'd give each other the silent treatment, and then Lori would come to him, filled with remorse, and they'd hold each other, trying to find comfort in a shared embrace.

Until the next time – and there was always a next time.

Hoping to avoid another **altercation**, he reached for her. One thing they always had going for them was their ability to reach each other through touch. It had always been that way between them, but he now wondered if it was enough.

"I'm sorry, honey. I have a big mouth. Look, it's just that I worry about you. You're the most important part of my life, you realize that, right?"

Lori's body grew less rigid as he held her. Relieved, he, too, began to relax, hoping they'd avoided yet another argument.

"And so I worry," he continued, kissing the top of her head. "Your moods are… well, they're **fragile** right now. You can't deny that, can you? This has been hard on both of us. But we're going to get through it. I know it doesn't seem that way right now, but we will. And we'll be stronger for it."

He felt her nod. For a moment, they said nothing, just held onto each other.

Finally, breaking away, she took a steadying breath. "I'm okay," she said. "But I need to go back to work, Johnny. There's nothing for me to do all day. I need to be with people again, focus on my work. Can you understand that?"

She looked at him and, again, sadness threatened to overwhelm her. _Poor Johnny_… she knew she'd been tough on him the past week.

She'd forced him to bear the anger she felt, and while she knew she'd been cruel to him at times – unfair – she'd been unable to stop herself. Perverse as it was, she experienced a sense of relief each time she struck a verbal blow that made him wince.

She'd wanted to hurt him, to have him get as angry as she was. He had a temper – she'd seen evidence of it when he talked about the thugs he brought in off the streets. Now, however, she sensed he was holding back and it infuriated her. Instead of telling her off, he managed to hold his temper, often just walking away from her.

Instead of diffusing her rage, his coolness only made her more angry and miserable. She didn't want his **submission** for God's sake! She wanted him to fight with her, to lose his temper, to rail against the fate that had taken their child from them… the child they had waited so long to conceive.

Instead, he was so damned understanding.

Understanding - yet missing the point. He understood the situation but he didn't understand her.

Maybe she didn't understand him, either.

Maybe it had always been that way. Maybe it had taken losing the baby to make her see it.

She had always been one for looking at a situation head-on and dealing with it. John liked to dance around problems, hoping things would work out on their own if you just let them be. That's why he was so unwilling to confront Andy about his drinking; it was why he had been so slow to look into a desk job. Despite his zealous **pursuit** and prosecution of criminals, when it came to personal relationships, Johnny was content to go along, rather than take positive action to make things better.

_That's not_ _fair, _her conscience chided.

The **memory** of the slip of paper she'd found in John's pocket softened her harsh thoughts. With all that had occurred in the past week, she'd almost forgotten that John had cared so much about their happiness that he'd acquiesced to her pleas that he get off the streets – she'd seen the application for the lieutenant's position. She was no fool; she understood how much satisfaction John got from his job. She also knew she found it increasingly difficult to deal with the violence and fear that came with it. Knowing he'd made the sacrifice for their future happiness meant a great deal to her.

People could judge her harshly if they wished. She knew his cronies in the precinct would. But until you were a cop's wife, you had no idea what it was like to wonder if this might be the last time you saw your husband walk out the door… or if the next phone call might be the one telling you he wasn't coming home.

She certainly had not understood what it meant when she married him. She understood now, though, and the job was an increasing point of contention between the two of them. The baby… the baby had papered over the differences.

But now the baby was gone.

Still… Johnny loved her enough to apply for a desk job. He cared enough about the future of their marriage to give up something he loved in order to give her peace of mind.

Maybe this was a sign that they could overcome the different ways in which they approached life. Maybe Johnny was right: they could get through this – come out stronger than before. Knowing that she didn't have to worry about his safety was a gift, and one she didn't take lightly.

"I do understand, Lori," said John, interrupting her thoughts.

"If you think you're ready to return to work, then I guess you are." He raised his brows and shrugged. "Just do me a favor – you're not one hundred percent yet. Take it easy this week; try to **simplify** your schedule. **Network** a little, share the cases – you don't have to do it all, right? I know you, Lori – I don't want you going back to work at the same pace as before, not until you're well. And, honey – "

He stopped, unable to figure out how to put his concerns into words. Lori looked at him, **puzzled**.

"A lot of people, well-meaning people, are going to express their sorrow about the baby."

She lowered her eyes and bit her lip. She knew he was right, and it was the one aspect of returning to work that bothered her. She'd never been good at accepting the kindness of others, and this – the constant reminders of what she'd lost – she didn't know how she was going to handle it.

"Let 'em be nice to you, Lori. Not just because they feel _you_ need it, but because _they_ need it, too. People feel bad when something like this happens. I bet even those two old harpies are feeling some remorse now that…" John stopped. He couldn't put it into words for a minute. The loss of the baby still ate at him, too.

"I know what you're saying, John. I'll do my best. I know people will be bringing it up, trying to be kind. I'll get through it without biting anyone's head off."

He smiled and pulled her close again. "I know you will. Hey, how about I meet you for lunch today? I'll call you later, and we'll see if we can make it work, okay?"

"Okay," she whispered, rubbing her cheek against his. "It will be easier in the future, won't it?"

"Hmm?" Burying his mouth in her hair, he wasn't paying close attention to her words. "What will be easier?"

"You know, making our schedules sync. Once you're behind the desk, you'll be better able to keep regular hours."

Confused, John drew back to study her. "What do you mean?"

She smiled. "I've been waiting for you to tell me."

He stared at her. _What was she talking about?_

She leaned forward and kissed him on the mouth. "I know what a sacrifice this is for you, Johnny, and I love you for making it. This is a turning point for us, honey; I know it is. And once you've settled into the position, once the doctor says it's okay to try again, we'll try for another baby. I know I've been difficult, but I'll get back to normal, Johnny – you just need to be patient with me. I'm grieving, you're grieving… but you're right: we'll get through this together."

John frowned. "Lori, I don't understand…"

"I saw the notice about the lieutenant's position in the pocket of your suit jacket – when were you going to tell me? Johnny, this is just what we need. A fresh start. I'll do my part, too. I know what this means, how much you're giving up for me."

_The job notice!_ John suddenly remembered leaving the notice in his pocket, forgetting to remove it when he left the jacket for Lori to take to the cleaners. _Idiot! Idiot!_

Lori's eyes were shining as she continued smiling at him.

* * *

><p>Andy Sipowicz was pouring his second cup of coffee when Emma Smiddick entered the office, threw her purse down onto her desk and stared accusingly at him.<p>

"Something wrong, Emma?" he asked, warily eying the old battle-ax.

"Why would you think anything is wrong, Detective?" she asked, her tone injured.

Andy sighed. _Here we go._

Emma Smiddick had been a thorn in Andy's side since she'd joined the precinct as the replacement for their former secretary, Judy Davis.

He missed Davis. She had handled with poise and humor a squad room filled with randy, smart-mouthed cops, taking their good-natured **taunting** in stride. Diagnosed with breast cancer that spring and dealing with the cumulative effects of chemotherapy and **radiation**, she'd taken a leave of absence. Her prognosis for recovery was good and Andy was glad. Davis was one of the 'good broads.'

Unfortunately, her leave of absence created an open position in the department.

That's when Emma Smiddick, Patron Saint of All Pains-in-the-Ass, showed up, a transfer from another downtown precinct. Andy suspected her old precinct wasn't missing Emma all that much. In fact, he wondered if her departure hadn't resulted in a celebration down there.

"Okay, Emma, what's got your panties in a bunch now?"

"I covered for you yesterday, Detective. I know you've got some personal issues going on…"

Andy frowned. _Who did this bitch think she was?_ "Gee, I must have missed confession hour 'cause I don't have any memory of discussing my _personal issues_ with you."

The look on Emma's face was withering. "I'm not blind, Detective. I can see you have problems. And Lord knows I've tried to overlook them, always having your back, looking out for you. I've had your back since the beginning! But you don't seem to appreciate anything I do."

Andy brushed past her and sat down heavily in his chair. "So, what do you want from me, Emma? Flowers? Isn't that the **universal symbol **for apology? Although I don't see what the hell I owe you an apology for…"

"I stayed late last night to type those reports for you! I didn't have to do that! All I want is a little respect, a little thanks, for all I do."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," said Andy, swiveling the chair in the other direction and making a show of rifling through the pages of a file in his hands.

"Look, Detective, the least you can do is sign the reports. They've been sitting there all morning…"

"I had other things that took precedence."

"Like the bottle?" Emma suddenly stopped, realizing she'd gone too far.

Andy's face turned purple and he swung the chair back in her direction. "Look, sister, it's **not all about you! **Got it? The last thing I need is you ragging me about stuff that isn't any of your business. Your job is to _do _your job – that's it. And if you have to stay late, it's part of the job. Stop being such a martyr!"

"And you stop being negligent! I hear things, Detective. Who do you think you're fooling? It's a matter of time before you're out the door. You're a disgrace – even my old precinct knows it."

"Oh yeah?" Angry, Andy stood up, his hands balled into fists and resting on the desk as he leaned forward. "Well, here's a news flash for you, sister: everyone knows you're a whiny-assed martyr who your old precinct was willing – no thrilled! – to give up in a heartbeat!"

"That's totally untrue," she said, her eyes filling with tears. "I give my all to my job. I'm loyal to the precinct. How dare you say that? Why, I'd worked at that precinct for over twenty years."

"Really? So, Emma, put it into a **historical **context for me, will ya? Did they have typewriters when you first started working – or were they still chiseling words into stone tablets?"

Indignant, Emma sat down hard in her chair. "_Well_, _I never_!"

"No kidding," said Andy, again assuming his seat. "Why aren't I surprised by that?"

For ten minutes silence reigned, only interrupted by an occasional sniffle coming from the direction of Emma's workstation.

Andy ignored it.

The sniffles became louder until, finally, Andy heard Emma grumble, "I don't know why _some_ people are so difficult to work with. It's just **counter-productive,** if you ask me... and if _some_ people weren't so self-indulgent, things would run a lot smoother. But _some_ people can't see their way past their nose…"

"And _some_ people don't know when the hell to shut up," muttered Andy.

The phone on Andy's desk rang suddenly. "Precinct Fifteen, Sipowicz speaking."

The voice on the other end spoke rapidly and softly. "Hey, Sipowicz, here's a tip for you. Alphonse Giardella is having lunch at Marchetti's restaurant. Maybe you wanna show up and see what's going on."

"Oh yeah? And who is this?"

"Let's just say I'm a guy willing to do you a favor."

"What's in it for you?"

The line went dead. Andy replaced the receiver and looked at his watch. _Where the hell was John? _It wasn't like him to be late.

"Look, Emma, I've got to go out for a while. When Detective Kelly gets here, tell him to meet me at Marchetti's Restaurant."

"A little early for lunch, isn't it, Detective?"

Ignoring her remark, Andy replied, "Tell him it's about Giardella. Got that?"

"I've got it," she grumbled, writing the message on her blotter.

Andy nodded. "Good." Grabbing his jacket, he hurried out the door.

Emma sat there silently, staring into space, a frown on her face. As if waking up, she quickly grabbed a black marker and inked over the message Andy had left for John.

Maybe she'd remember to tell Kelly and maybe she wouldn't.

She liked Kelly. He was decent to her, almost flirtatious, and while she was a good twenty years older than the handsome detective, she had a bit of a crush on him. Why should she send him running after that pig of man?

Let Sipowicz call Kelly himself. If later questioned, she'd simply say she forgot.

_After all, everyone experienced a little memory lapse once in a while..._

_Right?_

To be continued.

* * *

><p><em>Authors' Note: This is a continuing story from the writing team of WriterJasmine and Teeheehee1234. It's meant to be a fun attempt at writing a story together based on words that readers provide to us on a weekly basis. For more information about this, please read our profile and please feel free to participate. The 'bolded' words throughout the story are words that some of our reader friends sent our way this week. The words utilized are: <strong>fragile; nasty; zealous; puzzled; submission; altercation; historical; counter-productive; 'not all about you'; network; simplify; radiation; soothing; universal; zero; memory; symbol; taunting.<strong>_


	14. Chapter 14

SAILING INTO UNCHARTED WATERS

Chapter Fourteen

John drove to the precinct feeling utterly **dejected**. Lori had decided that the time was right to go back to work. Worse than that, she'd found the slip of paper in his jacket pocket and believed that he would take the lieutenant's position if offered to him.

Maybe if they hadn't lost the baby; maybe if they'd needed the money for a bigger place for their family...maybe…..

Maybe life was just one kick in the teeth after another.

The loss of their unborn child had been the reason why John knew that he couldn't take a desk job right now. Lori's anger and grief were fierce, often aimed in his direction, and it had taken all of his willpower to control his own **short fuse** when it came whatever **argument** they were having this time.

Couldn't she see that he was hurting just as much as she was? Even though Lori had been the one to carry their child, it didn't mean that it hurt him any less to lose it. Lori was devastated by the miscarriage, wrongly assuming that it was her fault, she didn't need her husband making her feel any worse – no matter how justified he might have been in fighting back at times.

All the pamphlets about miscarriage had told him that it was the man's job to be understanding and accommodating of their partner's change of moods and that they needed to support them to come to terms with the loss of the child.

Each time that Lori had gone on the attack, pushing his buttons and hitting him where she knew it hurt the most, he'd rarely reacted in kind to her** explosive** temper. Both of them were passionate people, it had been one of the things that made them so good together, but the fight had left his body when their baby died.

There had been so many times when it had been **tempting** to respond in kind to her verbal assaults. Other than a handful of blazing rows they'd had since the miscarriage, he'd decided that the best answer to Lori's vicious attacks was to remove himself from the situation entirely.

Those times that he'd left their apartment, he'd been seething with rage, yet unwilling to cause her any more pain than she was already in. Lori was his wife and he loved her, would never do anything to knowingly hurt her, and so he directed the pain and anger that he felt elsewhere:

Taking scum off of the streets.

Right now, taking criminals down was the only thing keeping him hanging on. He needed the distraction, the release of pent-up energy, to stop him from exploding completely. Bottling up his grief was getting harder and tussling with a perp had become an ideal way to relieve some of the pressure that was building from within.

Solving crimes and taking down perps was something that John could control. The power he felt when a perp was finally restrained and in **handcuffs** had become addictive. When everything else in his life was spiralling out of control, John knew that he could rely on the thrill of the job to keep him focused and on target. Landing a shot or two on a suspect resisting arrest had meant that he could return home to Lori and soak up whatever punishment she saw fit for him this time without fearing that he'd retaliate in kind.

He couldn't take the promotion. Not now.

Lori had promised that, once he'd gotten settled in his new role, that they would try for another baby, but what if she miscarried again?

He wasn't sure that he could get through the loss of this child, even with the distraction of being a street cop. How would he ever handle Lori if they lost another baby, especially when he'd be tied to a job he hated?

He'd end up resenting her, that or saying something vicious that he would never be able to take back. No, he couldn't risk it. If he took the desk job and things went south again, he knew their relationship would only end in **divorce**.

The thought of losing Lori stole his breath momentarily. Their marriage was strained to say the least. What they both needed was to understand where the other was coming from. If he had to be accommodating to her wants and needs, then Lori needed to be willing to do the same in return.

She'd be **disappointed** to find out that he wasn't taking the job but she'd understand why he felt as if he couldn't. Lori wasn't unreasonable, she'd see that his staying on the streets was the right choice for them at the moment.

Getting out of the car, John nodded at a pair of uniformed cops standing by their **squad car**, enjoying a quick shift break of coffee and a donuts.

"Hey, fellas," John nodded, passing the two men, wincing as he saw the look of sympathy on their faces.

The older and larger of the cops placed his coffee cup on the roof of the car and ambled over in his direction.

_Please, no more sympathy. I don't need condolences, I just need to do my job!_

"How you holding up, Kelly?"

He appreciated the concern, he really did, but he just wanted to get on and do his job. He didn't need reminding every two minutes that his wife had lost their child.

Keeping his expression neutral. John swallowed the annoyance he felt at the well-meaning concern.

"I'm doing ok. Just starting my shift. You guys on a double?"

It was a lame attempt at diverting the conversation, but it seemed to work as the younger cop called from the passenger door of the car, "Yeah, we gotta keep you suits busy somehow. Don't want you spending all day with your fingers up your asses, do we?"

He appreciated the banter - at least someone was treating him normally.

John gave the young cop a wan smile. "No, we leave the ass fingering to you guys. It's about all you numb-nuts are good for."

The young cop responded by smiling and giving John the middle finger as he walked toward the precinct building, but not before the older cop gave him a thump on the shoulder.

"You hang in there, Kelly. You and your wife will get through it, ok?"

Allowing his head to drop a fraction, John stared at his shoes, trying to gather his composure. If he was barely holding it together, how could he expect Lori to?

Sucking it up, John cracked a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Tell Franks to be careful. We wouldn't want him breaking a nail, would we?"

The uniformed cop laughed. "It'll go to his head; he'll think you actually give a shit about him."

"Of course I do," John replied, straight-faced. "Who else is gonna do the bagel run on a nightshift?"

"You're all heart, Kelly."

"That's not what your wife says," he shot back quickly. It was enough to make both men laugh. It felt good to get back into some of the easy banter he used to enjoy at work, instead of people treating him like he would snap at any minute.

"Yeah, she says your mouth is bigger than your dick. Go figure…." The cop looked at him with genuine concern, "Keep your chin up, kid. It'll get better."

John nodded his head briefly before heading for the squad room.

* * *

><p>God, why did Marchetti's have to be so far away from the precinct!<p>

It was the middle of** winter**, and he was getting too damn old to be pulling this kind of shit anymore. He had no idea who'd given him the tip off and right now, Andy didn't much care for the reasons why, he just wanted to nail that asswipe Giardella once and for all.

His first instinct had been to grab a car and speed down to the restaurant as fast as he could, but the noise and commotion that would generate would have tipped Giardellla off that he was on to him, giving the creep enough time to get away before Andy could get there.

Granted, his considerable weight and size didn't automatically lend itself to stealth, but the best option was to come unannounced and that meant walking the five blocks to Marchetti's.

At least it would give him time to cool off from his tete a tete with Emma. Who the hell did that stuck up, narcissistic broad think she was talking to him like that?

He'd met too many women like her, even having the misfortune to marry one. Why did women go around thinking that the world owed them one?

First that Costas broad and now Emma; what happened to the times when a woman respected a man and did as he said instead of arguing and infuriating them? Both women were a **premium**-grade pain in his ass. At least with a haemorrhoid you could treat it and it would go away – not like the women in his life at the moment….

Maybe the chill winter air would give him time to formulate some kind of plan when he finally arrived at the restaurant. Giardella was a coward and would hide behind a bunch of goons. He certainly wasn't stupid enough to come to a public restaurant without at least some kind of protection with him. Walking in with all guns blazing would only get him shot, especially going in alone.

Where the hell had John got to anyway?

He could really do with his partner's logical way of dealing with things right now. John had sharp instincts and more often than not would talk his wayward partner out of a kamikaze situation that could have put them both in danger.

Andy looked up briefly, watching as the **snow** began to fall once more. It had most definitely been a winter of discontent, but if he could just nail Giardella….things might not seem as bad as before.

He'd been royally pissed at what Emma had said, but maybe she had a point. What if others in the squad room were starting to notice that he was slipping off for a drink in the middle of a shift? John wasn't an idiot and the kid knew full well what his partner was doing, yet had never pulled him up on it.

He knew Fancy had it out for him, had from the start. Maybe it was the lieutenant's natural **lack of tolerance **to older cops like Andy, but Fancy had made it clear that he was less than impressed with the quality of his work.

While he couldn't really give two shits what Fancy thought of him, the notion that he would one day become a **disgrace** to the badge alarmed Andy. He was brash, old-school and definitely not the most tolerant of men, but Andy still had a respect for the badge and what it stood for. He was proud to serve in the NYPD.

He might not have given the job his all these past few months, but nailing Giardella would paper over the cracks and give him a little breathing space to sort himself out.

Finding the rear entrance to the restaurant, Andy reached for his gun.

* * *

><p>After sitting in the squad room for over 45 minutes, John felt himself getting annoyed at Andy's continued absence.<p>

How many times had he covered for his partner recently?

Sure he could hardly talk, being late himself, but he'd been relying on the fact that Andy would cover for him, like the several times _he'd_ done for _Andy._

It was strangely quiet in the squad room, with only himself and the admin woman present. The way that she kept looking at him was starting to become irritating. He was tired and sore from the countless sleepless nights and fights with Lori. He could feel his temper and natural goodwill towards people start to slip with each day that he and Lori seemed to drift further apart.

Pinching the bridge of his nose and leaning his elbows on his desk, John spoke to Emma. "Is there something you want to say to me?"

He glanced up briefly to see her visibly flinch at his words before letting out an annoyed huff. She continued to stare at him, uncertainty creeping across her features.

"Your partner isn't here," Emma sniffed, suddenly looking as if she had something to hide.

Like a dog on the scent of a rabbit, John immediately picked up on it. "Where is he? Is there something I should know?" Emma continued to avoid his gaze. "You need to tell me," he growled as he got to his feet.

"He…..uh…..he had a call from someone…..Then he left and told me to tell you that he was heading to somewhere called Marchetti's…he said it was about someone called Giardella."

"You didn't think to tell me this nearly an hour ago?"

Shit. How long had Andy been gone and what the hell had he got himself into?

Andy such had a stick up his ass about Giardella that it clouded his judgement when it came to trying to nail the creep. There was just something about Giardella that rubbed Andy up the wrong way, causing him to think with his fists rather than his head.

It wasn't as if Andy had been playing with a full deck of cards recently either. As much as he'd tried to deny it, John knew that Andy's drinking was affecting his judgement when it came to doing his job. Andy's focus had been **haphazard** at best. What if he'd gone to Marchetti's without backup and ended up getting himself killed?

Grabbing his suit jacket, John shot from the room, intent on finding his partner before things really went south.

* * *

><p><em>Just get through the day, Laura. Keep yourself together!<em>

Each hour that passed was another hour closer to being able to go home. The time couldn't go quick enough as far as Laura was concerned. Her colleagues in the office had been nice to her – too nice – and it made her want to burst into tears all over again.

She'd waved off their concerned stares and questions as to whether she was ok or if there was anything that they could do for her. She'd kept her head down and focused on doing prep for an upcoming case.

Perhaps her colleagues **misunderstood** her, but it was important that she showed no outward emotion while at work. Lawyers had to be above sensitivity and emotional vulnerabilities and if her colleagues had doubts as to whether she could cope they'd think that she could no longer handle the job that she loved to do.

The looks that people gave her weren't exactly making her feel **comfortable**. What she needed right now was for John to make good on his promise and take her out to lunch and get her away from all of these well-meaning people.

She glanced at the clock, seeing that it was almost 2pm. Surely John would have called her by now, even if it was just to let her know that he couldn't make lunch?

* * *

><p>Things had gone wrong. Big time.<p>

Andy glared at Giardella and the **rifle** that the man was pointing straight at his chest. His gaze turned to John lying on the ground and panting heavily, trying to regain his wits after taking a beating from a couple of Giardella's goons.

Why had John come running in when he had it all under control?

Ok, that was a lie. He was in deep shit when John had come bursting through the front door of the restaurant, but the last thing Andy had wanted was for his partner to get mixed up in this.

John had come in, intent on backing his partner up yet unaware that two more of Giardella's goons were behind him. They'd jumped John before he'd even realised they were there, knocking the gun from his hand and yanking his arms behind his back.

Neither of them had any weapons, yet Giardella had seen fit to make a point by instructing his men to restrain John and give him a serious working over. It didn't matter how many times Andy had pleaded with Giardella to call them off, they'd continued to kick John even when they'd dropped him to the ground.

"You've made your point. Leave him alone, Giardella."

Andy growled, seething with rage yet finding himself at the business end of Giardella's rifle.

"Have I, Sipowicz? You should know by now that your actions have consequences."

"Then take it out on me, not him." Andy pointed his head toward his fallen partner, feeling guilty that John had taken a pounding meant for him. "He's got nothing to do with this."

"I'm getting tired of you hounding me Sipowicz, you and your little ginger guard dog. Maybe it was about time we taught you two some manners."

"This is my fight, not his."

Giardella laughed at that. "You and I have **irreconcilable differences**, that much is clear. How about you stay out of my way and I'll stay out of yours, how does that sound?"

"You're an asshole, Giardella," Andy shot back.

"I know. It's a pity that don't make a **prescription** for that, ain't it?"

Giardella lifted his heavy bulk from the dining table, throwing the napkin back down on his plate before nodding at his men to head for the exit.

Andy watched them leave as the goons walked backwards, their guns pointed at him. As soon as they'd left he shot over to John, helping him to turn over onto his back, wincing at the swollen and beaten face.

"Andy?" John croaked, opening the eye that wasn't swollen shut. "What happened?"

Andy placed an arm on John's shoulder, patting it gently. "They're gone, kid. Let's get you up and take you to the hospital."

Thoughts of hospitals and what had happened the last time he'd been in one sobered John up instantly as he tried to sit upright, gasping in pain as his ribs protested at the movement.

Lori was going to kill him, but right now the thought of some heavy-duty pain relief seemed quite appealing. His ears were ringing and his vision was fuzzy, not to mention the fact that he felt sore all over. Maybe going to the hospital would be a good idea…..

**To be continued.**

* * *

><p>Authors' Note: This is a continuing story from the writing team of WriterJasmine and Teeheehee1234. It's meant to be a fun attempt at writing a story together based on words that readers provide to us on a weekly basis. For more information about this, please read our profile and please feel free to participate. The 'bolded' words throughout the story are words that some of our reader friends sent our way this week. The words utilized are: <strong>dejected; disappointed; explosive; short fuse; lack of tolerance; divorce; tempting; argument; disgrace; prescription; comfortable; premium; handcuffs; winter; squad car; rifle; snow; haphazard; misunderstood <strong>and **irreconcilable differences.**


	15. Chapter 15

SAILING INTO UNCHARTED WATERS

Chapter 15

Almost finished completing the medical release form, the doctor paused. Looking up, he studied the man resting on the ER bed.

"You were fortunate, Officer Kelly. You took a pretty severe beating to the face – don't expect to be posing for any magazine covers for a few days."

Kelly frowned, not appreciating the doctor's sense of humor.

"You have a couple of **fractured **ribs," continued the physician, "but no **broken **bones. That tenderness in your lower back will start to fade after a few days. I suggest you take a week off – and no active duty for a month. I want those ribs healed before you're out on the street again. Got it?"

"He's got it," said his partner, sitting near the bed. "Can he go now, doc?"

"Sign here," said the doctor, handing the clipboard to John. "You're out of here."

After the doctor left the ER room, John sat up with difficulty. "I feel like I've been run over by a truck."

Andy looked down at the floor. He was **conscious **of the role he'd played in getting John roughed up. He should have waited for his partner before undertaking the sting at Marchetti's. Instead, Andy had gone off on his own, breaking the cardinal rule of partners: always wait for backup.

He glanced up at John, wincing at his partner's **bruised **face. "I'm sorry," he said quietly.

"For what?" said John. "It happens. Part of the job, right?"

Andy nodded. "Yeah… right." His tone was unconvinced.

Rising from the bed, John reached for his shirt. His lips thinned in **frustration **as he tried to put it on. His ribs didn't hurt too much if he stayed still. But movement – that was a killer.

"Need some help?" asked Andy.

"Nah. What time is it?"

"Five-thirty."

Shaking his head, John sighed. "Christ, there's going to be hell to pay when I get home tonight. Lori's going to **hit the roof **when she sees my face."

"Ah, she'll probably slobber all over you, trying to make you feel better. Just tell her it was my fault. She hates me anyway."

"She doesn't hate you."

Andy raised an eyebrow. "Oh yeah?"

John grinned suddenly. "Okay, so you're not on her list of favorite people."

"That's the truth." Andy watched John closely. "You should have called her, kid. Now you're going to walk through the door looking like some sideshow freak and scare the hell out of her."

"Yeah… well…" John picked up his jacket, staring at the badge on its pocket. "Something happened this morning."

Andy waited, sensing John was having difficulty putting that 'something' into words.

"You know that lieutenant's position downtown? The one that opened up a couple of weeks ago?"

"Yeah. What of it?"

"I had the notice about it in my jacket pocket. Lori found it. She thinks I'm going for a desk job."

Andy stared at him in disbelief. "You were thinking about a desk job? Christ, John – that's not who we are!"

"I know, I know... Lori's been riding me about the job. When she saw the notice, she made the assumption I was going for it."

"You set her straight?"

John looked uncomfortable. "Not yet."

"What the hell are you waiting for?"

"I mean to tell her… it's just…"

"Just what?"

"After the baby... well, I just couldn't... Losing the baby almost broke her. Hell, I don't know what to do."

A **wrinkle **of concern creased Andy's brow. "You gotta level with her, John. Unless… do you want to move into administration? Is that what you want?"

"No! That kind of job would **strangle **me. I'd hate it. If only Lori hadn't seen the notice…"

"Well, she did, kid, and you better deal with it. And soon."

John realized Andy was right. He needed to get it out in the open with Lori. It was a conversation he wasn't looking forward to having.

* * *

><p>Andy dropped John off in front of the apartment he shared with Lori and then headed to Patrick's. He needed a drink – badly.<p>

Thoughts of what Giardella's goons had done to John infuriated Andy. His mind replayed the beating John had endured as the punks had their way with him. All Andy could do was stand by helplessly, a rifle pointed at his chest, watching John pay the price for his foolhardiness.

If **karma **was a woman, that bitch was on to him now, dogging his every movement. Lately, it seemed everything he touched turned to shit.

He should have waited for John. He should have shown some freaking restraint!

What if John had been killed?

The thought he would have been responsible not only **mortified **him; it frightened him.

_Yeah, a drink… he needed a drink. The sooner, the better._

He thought about how he'd let John down, and how the drinking was yet another step down a pathway for losers. He couldn't help it. He didn't have the **courage **to face his demons without the liquor. He wasn't like John.

Yeah, a stiff one at Patrick's – that was the ticket. And while he'd be having that drink, he wondered what John would be dealing with at home. In spite of his physical discomfort, John hadn't seemed all that keen about returning to his apartment and facing his wife. Well, that was probably Andy's fault, too. There was little doubt in Andy's mind that the '**gracious'** Lori would be likely to point that out to John.

But there was something more going on… John's remarks about the job and Lori's resentment didn't sound good.

Well, hell! That's the way it was with women who married cops. After a few years, they saw what the job was like, the price every cop paid, and they didn't like it. He guessed _they_ paid a price as well, but what did they expect? They weren't married to Sunday school teachers.

Pulling up to Patrick's, Andy turned off the car's ignition and sat silently for a few minutes.

He should give up the booze. It was making him sloppy. He knew he was going to have to quit someday – it was **inevitable**. You couldn't work the streets and drink. Not if you wanted to survive.

Yeah, he should stop cold turkey.

_But not today._

* * *

><p>John opened the door to the apartment and slowly eased himself inside. His ribs hurt like a son-of-a-bitch. He wondered if it was time yet for the next pain pill.<p>

"Lori?" he called, not seeing his wife at first.

"I'm in the kitchen," she called back.

_Great_, thought John, recognizing the iciness in her voice.

She had her back to him as she sliced several potatoes over the sink. "Nice of you to show up, Johnny. And thanks for the lovely lunch today – as well as the phone call!"

The **sarcasm **in her voice made John sigh. So, it was to be like _this _again tonight – another evening of **interminable** coldness. "I ran into some trouble today…"

"I'll just bet you did," she continued, refusing to look at him. "You acted so concerned this morning – my first day back on the job and all that… and you didn't even call me. Thanks a lot."

John said nothing, suddenly wanting that pain pill very badly. He hurt all over and he didn't relish the ugly discussion he knew was forthcoming. His temper was on edge and he bit his lip, afraid of what he might say.

When John remained silent, Laura turned around, determined to give him the rough side of her tongue. Instead, at the sight of him, she dropped the paring knife to the floor. "My God! John!"

She moved toward him, but he stepped away. "It's not as bad as it looks, Lori."

"Not as bad as it looks! What happened to you?"

John grabbed a beer from the fridge and popped the tab. He took a long drink from the can, and then fished around in his pocket for something. Lori watched as he extracted a small plastic bottle and flipped the lid open. He withdrew two small tablets and, with another swig from the can, swallowed them.

He then looked at her. "Pain pills," he said unnecessarily.

"No kidding. Should you be taking them with alcohol?"

He turned away. "Get off my back, Lori…"

He made it into the living room and carefully sat down on the sofa, mindful of his sore ribs. He drew a ragged breath and then took another swallow of the beer.

Seeing the effort sitting had cost him, Lori experienced a change of heart. His bruised and swollen face made her wince. It hurt her to see him in such discomfort.

Approaching the sofa quietly, she slowly knelt down in front of him. "What happened, Johnny? Tell me." She caressed his thigh gently, gazing into his eyes.

"I walked into a trap. I was stupid. End of story. Won't happen again."

"Where was Andy? Was he with you?"

"He couldn't do anything. The punks had a gun on him. They gave me the business and made him watch."

Fear hit Laura like a brick. "Who? Who did this?"

"Some cheesy little bastard. He'll get his – eventually."

Lori stood up. "Are you hungry? You should eat something. I'm sorry I was so nasty when you came in." Her fingers grazed his hair. She smiled sadly. "I'm afraid to touch you anywhere. Did you see a doctor?"

"Yeah. I've got two fractured ribs; they'll heal on their own. Could have been a lot worse."

John could feel the pain pills working, and the beer was helping. He started to relax. "Lori, we gotta talk."

She sat down next to him, looking at him expectantly.

He didn't know where to begin, and stared at her tongue-tied.

She smiled. "I don't think it's talking you need."

"No? So what do I need?" John heard a slight teasing in her voice and for the moment was glad to avoid what he had to say.

"Maybe someone to **pamper **you? Someone to rub your shoulders?"

John laughed wryly. "My shoulders are about the only part of me that don't hurt."

Lori stood up and went to stand behind him. With gentle hands, she began to rub his neck and shoulders, mindful of accidentally hurting him. "How does this feel?" she asked.

"Hmm… good, good…" he murmured, his eyes closed. His head fell back against her chest as she continued to work the knots in his neck.

Several quiet moments had gone by when she said, "I'll be so glad when you get the lieutenant's job. This is just the sort of thing I worry about. You look awful."

John raised his head, and Lori looked at him with surprise. "Don't you want me to continue?"

He took a deep breath. "Lori, I've got to talk to you about that job…"

"Do you know anything yet? Has the promotion come through?"

He shook his head. "No… and it's not going to."

She was confused. "Why do you say that? You've got the qualifications."

"I don't want the job, Lori," he said flatly. "I'm sorry, but I don't want it. I didn't apply."

He waited for the fireworks.

Instead, she stared at him. "But the notice… I thought…"

"I know what you thought, and I'm sorry. Look, I did consider it. I wanted to do it for you, but I can't. It's not me. I can't be someone else just to please you – and it's not fair of you to ask me. Baby, I swear to you – if I could, I would take the damn job just to please you. I just can't."

Lori turned away, her eyes filling with tears. "You mean you _won't_!"

"No," he said gently, "I mean I can't. Sitting inside an office all day, shuffling papers – it would kill me."

She laughed bitterly. "Have you looked into a mirror today? What do you think being on the streets is doing?"

John frowned. "C'mon, Lori, you know what I'm talking about. I'm not a goddamned desk jockey!"

She stood up. "No, you're a selfish child. You have responsibilities, John. A wife, a baby –"

She stopped speaking suddenly, realizing with an empty heart that it was no longer true. They didn't have a baby coming. Not now.

Maybe not ever…

"Are you punishing me?" she asked, her voice threaded with tears. "Punishing me for losing the baby?"

"Of course not! What do you think I am, some kind of monster? Christ, Lori!"

"I won't try for another baby, Johnny… not if you're going to stay on the streets." She said it quietly, but John sensed her resolve.

"That's blackmail," he said.

She looked miserable. "I don't mean it that way. Don't you see, John? I can't continue to live this way. I wish you could see yourself. What about the next time? Maybe someone will beat you to death! I just can't live this way."

John didn't trust himself to speak for a moment. "Are we at a crossroads, Lori? I can't be what I'm not."

"Nor can I," she said. She started to cry.

"Lori, ah, shit. Please, baby, don't cry. Come here," he said, his own voice choked.

She eased herself close to him and lay her head against his shoulder. She continued to cry softly, holding his hand tightly.

"Johnny, I think there's no hope for us."

"Please don't say that!"

"I love you, John, but it's not enough – you know?"

Yes, he did know – and it hurt. He touched her hair with his lips, realizing there wasn't a pain pill strong enough to deal with the kind of hurt he was feeling at that moment.

To be continued.

* * *

><p><em>Authors' Note: This is a continuing story from the writing team of Writer Jasmine and Teeheehee1234. It's meant to be a fun attempt at writing a story together based on words that readers provide to us on a weekly basis. For more information about this, please read our profile and please feel free to participate. The 'bolded' words throughout the story are words that some of our reader friends sent our way this week. The words utilized are: <strong>fractured; broken; conscious; bruised; frustration; hit the roof; wrinkle; strangle; karma; mortified; courage; gracious; inevitable; sarcasm; interminable; <strong>and** pamper.**_


	16. Chapter 16

SAILING INTO UNCHARTED WATERS

Chapter Sixteen

Laura watched her husband quietly, having woken over an hour ago from a frightening dream in which, this time, John hadn't come home. He'd been hurt in the line of duty twice in the last six months: the bullet graze to his arm and now the beating he'd suffered yesterday.

Neither of them had said much past their initial conversation when John had returned home last night. Laura had broken away from his embrace carefully, mindful of his sore ribs, and had busied herself with preparing dinner, all the while trying to stifle the sobs that were pushing their way to the surface.

The meal had been a stilted affair, with neither of them willing to look at the other as they ate in silence. Try as she might, Laura couldn't help but feel a twinge of sympathy as she caught glimpses of John wincing as he ate, his face no doubt aching from the many hits he'd taken.

She'd told him quietly that he'd be better off lying down in their bed, trying to sleep off the worst of the pain. Watching as he awkwardly rose from the couch, Laura guessed that he didn't have the energy to argue the point. Instead, he'd nodded his head in agreement and shuffled slowly toward the room and the bed that they shared.

But for how much longer?

They'd found themselves at a crossroads with neither willing to acquiesce to the wishes of the other. Both of them were stubborn, refusing to back down from their position. They loved each other, but John's refusal to take a desk job had convinced Laura that trying for another baby was out of the question.

He'd accused her of blackmail and maybe he'd had a point. John couldn't see that the stress and worry of not only caring for a child, but wondering whether this would be the day that John would never return home was taking its toll on her. The beating he'd taken only confirmed that she was right to be worried about his continued safety. As bad as he looked, John had been lucky this time. What happened if his luck finally ran out?

She wasn't a heartless witch, and so she'd gone back and forth to the bedroom during the evening to check that John was resting comfortably. The silence and solitude of the living room had given her time to openly sob for what she knew was the end of her relationship with the man that she still desperately loved.

Weariness had eventually drawn her toward the sanctity of their bed. Undressing quietly, she'd slipped into bed beside John, wary of waking him. As she'd lifted the top sheet, Laura had winced at the amount of bruising on his chest and abdomen with the garish bruises wrapping themselves around his sides and toward his back where Laura knew she'd find more of the same. She'd felt a flush of anger flow through her as she made out a clear boot print on John's stomach – no doubt where one of the thugs had stamped on him.

She'd fallen into an uneasy sleep, only grabbing a few hours of rest before a chilling dream had woken her. She'd probably called out as she shook herself from the horrific vision of her nightmare, but it hadn't been enough to rouse the man beside her from his slumber.

The painkillers had obviously taken the edge off of his discomfort, but Laura couldn't fail to notice how her husband grimaced as he slept, even though he'd not changed positions once during the night. She would have been content to leave him be and to sleep the rest of the day away, but the shrill ringing of the telephone on the bedside table had woken him. Grabbing it quickly, Laura answered in a terse voice, annoyed at whoever had disturbed them.

"Mrs Kelly, it's Lieutenant Fancy. How's John doing?"

The mere mention of the word 'lieutenant' had set her on edge. John had refused to even contemplate the thought of taking a desk job for the sake of his family. Anything to do with the damn NYPD angered her at the moment – being a cop had almost got John killed yesterday.

Laura glanced at her husband as he lifted a hand to rub at his eyes before thinking better of it. It was because he'd been out on the streets that he'd been hurt so badly.

"Well, he was resting until you called," she shot back, her tone icy. She saw John frowning at her, motioning gingerly for her to give him the handset.

"I'm sorry to disturb you both, but I need John to come in to see me today….if he's feeling up to it," Fancy added, sensing that tact and diplomacy were called for when dealing with the feisty Mrs Kelly.

"His doctor ordered him to stay away from the precinct for at least a week to recover. He's not going anywhere near that place….and if I had any say in it he'd never step foot in there again. What kind of show are you running, lieutenant? John could have been killed yesterday, do you have – "

Whatever else she'd been about to say had been halted by John snatching the phone away from her, giving her a pointed look as he spoke to his superior.

"Sorry about that, sir," John mumbled, still feeling the effects of last night's pain pills.

"It's fine, Kelly. I understand that your wife is feeling a little over-protective of you at the moment."

John gave Lori a quick look, frowning as he saw her scowl at him as she crossed her arms over her chest with a huff. Over-protective wasn't an adjective that could be used to describe how Lori was feeling at the moment...

"What can I do for you, sir?"

He heard Fancy sigh. "I know you're not feeling at your best at the moment, but I need you to come down and see me today."

"Sure," John answered automatically. In reality, he would much rather have stayed in bed for the rest of the day. The pain was tolerable if he didn't move too much, the thought of making his way down to the precinct filled him with dread. "I'll be in mid-morning if that's ok. It's gonna take me a while to get up and moving."

"Take your time, John. I appreciate you coming in. If I'd had my way I would have left this until you came back on duty but I'm getting heat from above and they want answers…sooner rather than later."

"I understand. I'll get there as soon as I can."

He could feel Lori's eyes bore into him before he'd even finished the call. Holding the handset out to her, John felt her snatch it away violently, expecting another argument to erupt between them.

"You're going in?" Lori asked, her voice dangerously quiet. She usually reserved screaming and shouting for when she was mildly pissed at him, but when her voice dropped, _that_ was when she was livid with him.

He closed his eyes, letting out a sigh, instantly regretting it as his ribs protested. "I don't have a choice. They need me to make a statement."

"They can't take it over the phone?"

"It doesn't work like that, babe." He tried to placate her, in no mood for another argument. "I have to go."

"No you don't. You put your job above everything else, even your own well-being, can't you see that?"

"Lori, you don't understand – "

Pulling herself from the bed, Lori thrust her robe on. "Oh, I understand alright. The job is more important to you than I am."

John pulled himself up with a grimace. "Babe, you know that's not true. I love you."

Laura looked at him, tears brimming in her eyes. "I know you do, but you love the job more, Johnny. I can't….I won't be second-best in your life. It's either me or the job. You can't have both."

* * *

><p>It had taken John a good two hours to make it to the precinct after the call from Fancy and Laura's parting words were still ringing in his ears.<p>

She'd left their bedroom, dressed quickly and shot out of the front door without saying another word to him, ignoring all of his attempts to try to talk to her. Pain and fatigue had made him even less inclined to push things and so he let her go, wincing as he heard the door slam on her exit.

He didn't feel much like driving himself to the precinct, calling a cab instead. The driver had looked at him with something akin to sympathy, but he paid little attention as he kept his gaze focused on watching the streets pass by.

It must have been fate that the taxi took him past Marchetti's on the journey to the precinct. It was enough for the vague memories of what had happened there to come flooding back. He remembered cursing Andy and his foolishness as he entered the restaurant with his gun drawn, but little after that. There was a blurry memory of Andy helping him into the backseat of the sedan he'd driven over in, and then not much else until they'd got to the hospital.

Making his way into the precinct and up the stairs to the squad room, he'd pretty much ignored the colleagues who asked him if he was okay, giving them a nod and a tight smile in response. John's eyes searched the room looking for any sign of Andy. The older man's absence didn't bode well for what was to come.

John wasn't a naïve rookie, he knew exactly why Fancy had asked him to come in today. It was department procedure for injuries sustained in the line of duty to be reported to Internal Affairs and they'd probably been the ones putting the heat on Fancy to get the whole debacle squared away as soon as possible.

Emma was missing too, though he wouldn't lose any sleep if the sour old mare had been fired for her role in yesterday's events. If Emma had only told him of Andy's whereabouts sooner, then maybe the whole mess might not have happened in the first place.

Who was he kidding? Andy and his recent behaviour had been a disaster waiting to happen. He'd just been the unfortunate schmuck who'd been left to pay the price at the end of it. Andy had been a law unto himself for a while now and it was becoming increasingly difficult to hide that fact from Fancy and the brass.

"Wow. I hope the other guy looks worse."

John frowned at his colleague, Greg Medavoy, as much as his injured face would allow. He would have loved to say that he'd been the victor, but the truth was that he hadn't stood a chance against Giardella's goons once they'd got the jump on him.

Medavoy looked at him soberly. "Seriously John, you look like shit. You sure you should be here?"

"Not my choice," John replied with a scowl. "You see Andy today?"

Medavoy suddenly looked like he'd rather be anywhere than the squad room at that moment as John fixed him with his laser-like blue eyes.

"Do you know something?" John asked, trying to intimidate his colleague into sharing what he seemed intent on hiding.

"Kelly," Lieutenant Fancy's voice boomed from across the room. The man was standing in the doorway to his office with a less than amused look on his face. "Can you come into my office please?"

Medavoy looked relieved to be given a reprieve from answering John's question, returning to shuffling files on his desk in an attempt to look busy.

John slowly made his way to the lieutenant's office, immediately feeling his hackles rise when he saw a man he recognised. Sargent Phillips was known to everyone at the 15th Precinct as a man who'd ended more than half a dozen careers in the last five years. The man's presence only reinforced John's fears that the knives were out when it came to Andy.

Fancy motioned for John to have a seat, which he declined. "It hurts less if I stand," he said by way of explanation.

"I read the hospital report. You were lucky to get away with only a couple of cracked ribs," Fancy replied, sitting behind his desk and smoothing out his tie.

"That would depend on your definition of lucky I suppose."

Fancy gave a small nod of his head. "Understood, detective. We'll try to make this as brief as possible."

Sargent Phillips cleared his throat and spoke up. "Detective Kelly, I was wondering if you could tell us what happened yesterday during your shift."

John closed his eyes and let out a deep sigh, a move he instantly regretted as his ribs and abdominal muscles protested at the sudden movement. "I walked into a trap and got beat up. That's all."

"That's not what I heard, Detective," Phillips replied.

"Then you heard wrong."

"I heard that Detective Sipowicz broke protocol, went to Marchetti's without informing his superior and entered the building without backup. I heard that, when you finally knew of your partner's whereabouts, you went after him, walked into a setup and paid the price for your partner's idiotic actions."

John said nothing as he stared at his shoes, not wanting to give Phillips any more ammo against Andy than he already had.

"I understand that he's your partner and that you want to protect him, Detective Kelly, but you should know that we already have enough evidence to suspend Detective Sipowicz pending a formal investigation into his actions. We don't need your testimony to throw the book at him for this."

John's head shot up as he looked at Fancy in annoyance before turning his frustration to Sargent Phillips. "So you made me come down here for nothing?"

Phillips began shuffling papers in front of him before placing them in his briefcase and making his way toward the door. "Detective Sipowicz is a liability and I asked you to down here as a courtesy. You've impressed people in high places, Kelly, and I'd hate for you to have your career dragged through the mud for the sake of some misplaced loyalty. People like Sipowicz are users, you'd do well to get yourself another partner – sooner rather than later."

John glared as Sargent Phillips left the room, leaving him face to face with Lieutenant Fancy.

"He's right you know. Sipowicz is pulling you down with him. You're a good cop, John."

"I'm the cop I am because of him. He taught me everything I know," John insisted.

"And he almost got you killed yesterday." Fancy's voice softened as he spoke. "Yesterday could have turned out a lot worse for you. What if next time you're not so lucky? What if next time you get killed?"

"That'll never happen. I know Andy's got my back."

"Like he did yesterday?"

Fancy's words had the required effect as John felt his grip on his temper loosen. "That wasn't his fault!"

"How long are you going to keep covering for him? Can't you see what a liability he is at the moment?" John stared at Fancy, looking furious. "Andy's not going to be around for a while, maybe you should consider putting in a request for another partner."

"No."

"He's dragging you down, Kelly. You're too good a cop to get caught up in his mistakes. Do yourself a favour and get out while you still can….before you lose everything.

No doubt it was unintentional, but Fancy's words hit harder than John had expected them to. He and Lori had lost the baby, and now they were at loggerheads over his job, would he even have a home to go back to tonight?

* * *

><p>"Another," Andy slurred, his posture slumping further with each glass of scotch he downed.<p>

The bar tender looked at him. "Don't you think you've had enough, pal?"

In no mood for games, Andy grabbed the barman by his shirt, pulling him forward. "Give me another drink or I'll take my money elsewhere, you greasy little prick!"

He felt a meaty hand clamp down on his shoulder. "That's it, you're out of here, old man."

"I want another drink," Andy slurred, finding himself being pushed toward the door.

"Go and find it somewhere else. You're done here."

Maybe it was a combination of the alcohol and the shove that the doorman had given him, but Andy found himself in a heap on the ground after losing his balance, landing face-first by the trashcans outside the building.

Despite the melting snow soaking into his clothes, Andy couldn't bring himself to get up. Maybe this was where he belonged - with the trash: old and used and no good to anyone.

When you hit rock bottom, was there any point in getting back up?

* * *

><p>Even though he knew he was being cowardly, John had avoided going home until the early evening. He was tired and aching and in no mood for another round of arguments with Lori. They'd both made their feelings clear when it came to where they saw their future heading and it was becoming clear that they both saw things moving in very different directions.<p>

Looking up at the building, he could see that the lights in their apartment weren't on. John let out a small sigh of relief at the thought of not being confronted with Lori's anger as soon as he walked through the door.

Despite the relief he felt at not having to deal with another disagreement, nothing could have prepared John for the sight before him as he opened the door. Even with a quick glance it was clear to see that Lori had removed all traces of herself from the living room. The photos of the two of them together, the silly little trinkets that she collected - all of it had gone.

Walking into the bedroom, he found her side of the room stripped of belongings. Lori's side of the wardrobe empty and bare. On the bed he found a letter. He already knew what it was without even reading it, yet he felt compelled him to open it.

_Johnny,_

_ These last few months have been so tough for both of us and so I want you to know that I've given this a lot of thought. When you told me that you weren't going to take the promotion I realised that I can't keep doing this._

_I can't keep worrying myself to sleep when you're out on the streets at night that, this time, you're not going to come back home to me. You put yourself in danger all the time and I can't live in constant uncertainty. I love you, Johnny, it would kill me if anything happened to you._

_Yesterday brought it back home that you're always in harm's way and it frightened me when I saw what those animals had done to you. I've lost our baby and I can't face the thought of losing you too._

_Maybe I was wrong to say that we wouldn't try for another baby unless you left the streets, but I only said it because I love you and I need you in my life. You said that you wouldn't change for me and I can't either, so maybe it's best that we part ways now before we hurt each other any more than we already have._

_I've packed my things and headed to my sister's for a while so I can clear my head, but I think this is the end of the road for us. _

_I love you, Johnny. I always have and I always will._

_Laura xxx _

How could his world have fallen apart around him so quickly?

His partner was suspended. His wife had just left him. What else was there left to lose?

When you had nothing, the only thing you could do was start again. His marriage was over and his partnership Andy was in tatters. He had no choice but to carry on, trying to rebuild from the foundations that still remained. Those foundations were damaged and weak, in need of repair.

Maybe it was time to once more set sail into uncharted waters.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Thanks to everyone who read, reviewed and took part with the word suggestions throughout this story. New chapters of Heartless are in the works and on the way soon...  
><strong>

**WriterJasmine and Teeheehee xxx**


End file.
